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COPKRIGHT DEPOStr. 



IN Tl YORK 

CITY, THEODORE ROOSEVELT WAS BORN 

OCTOBER 27, 1858 



Stories from 

The Winning of the West 



1769-1807 



Theodore Roosevelt 

From the painting by John S. Sargent 
With an Introduction b^ 



iiS in rticiOgi 



Stories from 

The Winning of the 

West 

1769-1807 

By 

Theodore Roosevelt 



With an Introduction by 

Lawrence F. Abbott 



With 23 Illustrations in Photogravure 



G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York and London 

^be Iknickerbocher press 

1920 



F351 



Copyright, 1900, by 

THEODORE ROOSEVELT 

Under the title Episodes from " The Winning of the West ") 



Copyright, 1920, by 
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 



(For new material) 



NOV 20 1320 




©CI.A604;3?1 



n.%0 t 



" O strange New World that yit wast never young, 
Whose youth from thee by gripin' need was wrung, 
Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose baby-bed 
Was prowled roun' by the Injun's cracklin' tread, 
And who grew'st strong thru shifts an' wants an' pains, 
Nursed by stem men with empires in their brains. 
Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain 
With each hard hand a vassal Ocean's mane; 
Thou skilled by Freedom and by gret events 
To pitch new states ez Old World men pitch tents, 
Thou taught by fate to know Jehovah's plan, 
Thet man's devices can't unmake a man. 



Oh, my friends, thank your God, if you have one, that he 
'Twixt the Old World and you set the gulf of a sea. 
Be strong- backed, brown-handed, upright as your pines. 
By the scale of a hemisphere shape your designs." 

Lowell. 



IF the life of Theodore Roosevelt had not been 
devoted to politics and practical affairs, he would 
most certainly have made a place for himself 
among the world's historians. 

He possessed in a large measure the qualifications 
that go into the making of a historian. He had infinite 
industry and the capacity for taking pains. He could 
and did devote all the energy that was needed for the 
collection of material, and the consultation of authori- 
ties. He was particularly interested in the study and 
analysis of the character of the leading men who had 
the larger responsibility for the shaping of events. 
Above all he had imagination, without which no his- 
torical narrative can carry conviction. 

As examples of the difference between the historian 
who has imagination and one who is merely a recorder 
of (more or less accurately presented) facts, we may 
refer to Motley's History of the Dutch Republic and 
George Trevelyan's Prose Epics on Garibaldi on the 
one hand, and to Alison's Europe and Hume's England 
on the other. 

Roosevelt had the strongest possible belief in the 
future of America. He was confident that the Re- 



VI 



^nUi^f^tva' Mott 



public was to take its place in the Family of Nations 
as a leader in shaping the world's policies. He held 
that it was to do its part in protecting the smaller 
states and in preserving for all communities what 
Americans claim to be an elementary right — the right 
to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

With this belief, he had a keen personal interest 
in studying the records of the founding and develop- 
ment of the Republic. In his history of the Winning 
of the West, he went over ground that had practically 
been untouched by the historians. He undertook to 
do for the records of the Middle West and Southwest 
what Parkman had done for the Northwest His his- 
tory stands as authoritative, vivid, and dramatic. The 
episodes, absolutely trustworthy as to detail, read like 
romances. Such stories as those of the capture of Vin- 
cennes, or the fight at King's Mountain, may fairly be 
compared with the best of Trevelyan and the best of 
Motley. 

The "Winning of the West" constitutes an essential 

division of the history of the Republic and, therefore, 

of the history of the world. 

G. H. P. 

New York, 
September, 1920. 



ffl^fjeobore JRoosiebeU, pioneer 

THEODORE ROOSEVELT, although a Knick- 
erbocker by a long ancestral line, was in spirit 
a thorough Westerner. That is to say he was 
himself a pioneer and admired the pioneer, — not the 
bravo or braggart, not the "two-gun" man and desper- 
ado, not the bandit and violator of law and order, but 
the man who, by a combination of rugged virility and 
keen intelligence went into the wilderness to cut the 
road and pave the way for democratic civilization. For 
the forty years of his seething active life the wilderness 
had a magnetic attraction for him, not because he was 
ascetic and reclusive but because he was intensely human 
and believed that the great, the worth-while men of the 
race are those who translate ideals into deeds and make 
new places and new communities civilized and habitable. 
This is the reason, it seems to me, why his passion for 
hunting and exploration was entirely harmonious with 
his passion for political pioneering. He enjoyed the 
adventure, the rough, hardy, testing work of body and 
brain but he always had his eye fixed upon the ultimate 
result to be obtained, — the development, the extension, 
the strengthening of the social, political, and spiritual 
life of the nation and the race. 



viii ^fjeobore i^oosiebelt, pioneer 

It was this pioneering spirit that first led him into 
poHtics. He relates that just after he graduated from 
Harvard, when he was about twenty-two years of age, 
he joined the Republican Club in the district in which 
he lived in New York City. A member of his family, 
somewhat more aristocratic and fastidious than he was, 
protested on the ground that "nobody but horse-car 
drivers and bartenders belonged to the club." Young 
Roosevelt denied the accuracy of the criticism but 
added that if it were true then the horse-car drivers and 
bartenders were likely to be the ruling class in the 
community and he proposed if he could to have some 
share in the ruling class. 

This desire of Roosevelt's to be associated with men 
who were actually doing things is clearly displayed in 
some recollections which he published in The Outlook in 
191 2 to explain how he became a Progressive. In the 
course of this personal revelation he says: 

I suppose I had a natural tendency to become a Progressive, 
anyhow. This is, I was naturally a democrat, in believing in fair 
play for everybody. But 1 grew toward my present position, 
not so much as the result of study in the library or the reading of 
books — although 1 have been very much helped by such study 
and by such reading — as by actually living and working with men 
under many different conditions and seeing their needs from 
many different points of view. 

The first set of our people with whom 1 associated so intimately 
as to get on thoroughly sympathetic terms with them were cow- 
punchers, then on the ranges in the West. 1 was so impressed 
with them that in doing them justice I did injustice to equally 
good citizens elsewhere whom 1 did not know, and it was a 
number of years before 1 grew to understand — first by associ- 
ation with railway men, then with farmers, then with mechanics, 



STfieobore l^oosiebelt, pioneer ix 

and so on — that the things that I specially liked about my cow- 
puncher friends were, after all, to be found fundamentally in rai' 
way men, in farmers, in blacksmiths, carpenters — in fac\ 
generally among my fellow American citizens. 

Roosevelt's writings as well as his life are full of the 
traits of the pioneer. They reveal themselves uncon- 
sciously in the midst of a treatise on natural history or 
political and social economy. In his Outdoor Pastimes 
of an American Hunter, — a delightful interpretation of a 
self-supporting life in the open — in a chapter on the 
white-tail deer which the scientific naturalist would 
pronounce scholarly, he breaks away from scholastic 
bonds into the enthusiasm of the frontier hunter. 

"Personally," he says, "I feel that the chase of any 
animal has in it two chief elements of attraction. The 
first is the chance given to be in the wilderness; to see 
the sights and hear the sounds of wild nature. The 
second is the demand made by the particular kind of 
chase upon the qualities of manliness and hardihood. 
. . . The keen, fresh air, the breath of the pine forests, 
the glassy stillness of the lake at sunset, the glory of 
sunrise among the mountains, the shimmer of the 
endless prairies, the ceaseless rustle of the cotton-wood 
leaves where the wagon is drawn up on the low bluff of 
the shrunken river — all these appeal intensely to any 
man, no matter what may be the game he happens to 
be following. . . . 

"The qualities that make a good soldier are, in large 
part, the qualities that make a good hunter. Most 
important of all is the ability to shift for one's self, the 



X Srijeobore l^oosiebelt, pioneer 

mixture of hardihood and resourcefulness which enables 
a man to tramp all day in the right direction, and, when 
night comes, to make the best of whatever opportunities 
for shelter and warmth may be at hand. Skill in the 
use of the rifle is another trait; quickness in seeing 
game, another; ability to take advantage of cover, yet 
another; while patience, endurance, keenness of obser- 
vation, resolution, good nerves, and an instant readiness 
in an emergency, are all indispensable to a really good 
hunter. . . . 

"It ought to be unnecessary to point out that the 
wilderness is not a place for those who are dependent 
upon luxuries, and above all for those who make a 
camping trip an excuse for debauchery. Neither the 
man who wants to take a French cook and champagne 
on a hunting-trip, nor his equally objectionable though 
less wealthy brother who is chiefly concerned with 
filling and emptying a large whiskey jug, has any place 
at all in the real life of the wilderness." 

This catalogue of the essential virtues of the pioneer 
calls to mind the story of Madame de Stael related by 
Lord Cromer in his master work on Modern Egypt. He 
narrates the qualities that are desirable in the under 
secretaries of a legation or embassy and says that young 
men in the diplomatic service possessing such qualities 
are as hard to find as the tutor sought for her children 
by a Frenchwoman of distinguished social position who 
in her difficult quest wrote to Madame de Stael for help. 
She must have, she said, a man with the zest of youth 
yet with the wisdom of experience; who was gay, lively. 



arijeobore i^oosiebelt, pioneer xi 

and sympathetic and yet a strict disciplinarian; who 
valued the social graces and yet loved solid scholarship ; 
who possessed firmness without severity, patience 
without weakness, polished manners without vanity, 
and a love of society without intrusiveness and self 
complacency. **My dear," replied Madame de Stael, 
"I know exactly the kind of man you are looking for, but 
I warn you that if I find him I shall marry him!" 

One wonders if the characteristics which Roosevelt 
ascribes to the successful master of the wilderness did 
not make the Western pioneer marriageable ! They did, 
indeed, and not one of the least things to the credit of 
our pioneers are the homes they built and the children 
they reared in partnership with their equally adventur- 
ous and brave wives and helpmeets. Judges, lawyers, 
teachers, statesmen, — professional men and men of 
afi^airs who have made their deep mark on American 
life have sprung from these frontier homes. The 
greatest of American jurists, John Marshall, was a 
frontiersman. And the best loved and most epoch- 
making of American Presidents, Abraham Lincoln, was 
himself a pioneer and a son of a pioneer. 

Feeling the spirit and understanding from actual 
experience the life of the frontiersman it is no wonder 
that Theodore Roosevelt said of his Winning of the 
West: "It has been to me emphatically a labor of love 
to write of the great deeds of the border people." 

His history deals almost exclusively with the Western 
colonial period, — that is to say with the period when the 
United States, just emerging from colonialism, formed a 



xii ^Tfjeobore 3&oos!eb£lt, pioneer 

fringe of civilization along the Atlantic sea-board and 
when its people were sending out feelers into the track- 
less wastes of Ohio, Kentucky, and the Mississippi valley, 
regions as unknown and as far off to the merchants of 
Boston, New York, and Philadelphia as Hispania, Gaul, 
and Britain were to the patricians of Rome under 
Julius Caesar. 

The Winning of the West describes the physical 
conquest of the relentless forces of Nature and the 
struggles with the aboriginal Indian inhabitants and 
only incidentally touches upon the planting of those 
seeds of political and social civilization which have made 
the development of the Central and Mississippi States 
one of the wonders of the modern world. But Roose- 
velt did not undertake a complete historical survey of 
the rise to power and affluence of the Western States of 
the Union. He wisely confined himself to a narrative 
of the birth and infancy of those States. Yet his Win- 
ning of the West is, nevertheless, as an excellent judge of 
contemporary writers, Brander Matthews, has said, "an 
abiding contribution to American historical literature." 

This Western history was written when Theodore 
Roosevelt was less than thirty years old. Twenty 
years later, — to be exact in the last year of his Presi- 
dency, — he gave expression again to his admiration for 
those qualities of virility, courage, and public service 
which he believed were peculiarly, although not at all 
exclusively, produced by the Western pioneering spirit. 
This tribute, written at the White House on January i, 
1908, forms the concluding paragraph of his Outdoor 



tKfjeobore i^oosiebelt, pioneer xiii 

Pastimes of an American Hunter to which I have already 
referred : 

"Appointments to public office must of course be 
made primarily because of the presumable fitness of the 
man for the position. But even the most rigid moralist 
ought to pardon the occasional inclusion of other 
considerations. I am glad that I have been able to put 
in office certain outdoor men who were typical leaders 
in the old life of the frontier, the daring adventurous life 
of warfare against wild man and wild nature which has 
now so nearly passed away. Bat Masterson, formerly 
of Dodge City and the Texas cattle trail, the most 
famous of the old time marshals, the iron-nerved gun 
fighters of the border, is now a deputy marshal in New 
York, under District Attorney Stimson — himself a big 
game hunter, by the way. Pat Garret, who slew Billy 
the Kid, I made Collector of Customs at El Paso; and 
other scarred gun-fighters of the vanished frontier with 
to their credit deeds of prowess as great as those of either 
Masterson or Garret, now hold my commissions, on the 
Rio Grande, in the Territories, or here and there in the 
States of the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains." 

Thus crops out again at fifty years of age the spirit of 
the pioneer in Theodore Roosevelt which impelled him 
at twenty-five to become a rancher and frontiersman 
himself and at thirty to write in The Winning of the West 
the story of one of the great pioneering epochs of history. 

Lawrence F. Abbott. 

New York, 
March i, 1920. 



Cbitor's; preface 

THE chronological narrative of The Winning of 
the West is here given in all the vigor of the 
original language of the author. With this 
picturesque chronicle are presented the more dramatic 
incidents in the western movement of our people — the 
great deeds of men in the conquest of the Wilderness, 
and the tale of how "the rifle-bearing freemen who 
founded their little republics on the western waters 
gradually solved the question of combining personal 
liberty with national union." 

The storm and stress of the Revolution obscured the 
steady advance of the backwoodsmen. The clash of 
battle quite outrang the crack of the solitary rifle and 
the tread of the Indians. But when the colonists along 
the sea at last won independence for the nation, the 
pioneers beyond the Alleghanies had already more 
than doubled the area of the land that was dedicated 
to "liberty and the pursuit of happiness." 

Of the individualism of those early days, of the 
slow drift toward Union, of the renewed strength 
that came with it, and of the acquisition of Louisi- 
ana, the narrative can speak for itself. The deeds 
of the frontiersmen belong to the history of the Na- 

XV 



xvi Cbitor'si preface 

tion and are a source of common national pride; their 
names deserve the familiar use that follows deeds 

well done. 

F. L. O. 

Pine Lodge, Van Hiseville, N. J. 



preface 

IT has been to me emphatically a labor of love to write 
of the great deeds of the border people. I am not 
blind to their manifold shortcomings, nor yet am I 
ignorant of their many strong and good qualities. For 
a number of years I spent most of my time on the fron- 
tier, and lived and worked like any other frontiersman. 
The wild country in which we dwelt and across which 
we wandered was in the Far West; and there were, of 
course, many features in which the life of a cattleman 
on the Great Plains and among the Rockies differed 
from that led by a backwoodsman in the Alleghany 
forests a century before. Yet the points of resemblance 
were far more numerous and striking. We guarded 
our herds of branded cattle and shaggy horses, hunted 
bear, bison, elk, and deer, established civil government, 
and put down evil-doers, white and red, on the banks 
of the Little Missouri and among the wooded, precipi- 
tous foot-hills of the Bighorn, exactly as did the pioneers 
who a hundred years previously built their log cabins 
beside the Kentucky or in the valleys of the Great 
Smokies. The men who have shared in the fast-vanish- 
ing frontier life of the present feel a peculiar sympathy 
with the already long-vanished frontier life of the past. 

Theodore Roosevelt. 
Sagamore Hill, 
May, 1889. 



Contents; 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — The Indians of the Border . . . i 

II. — The Backwoodsmen ..... 9 

III. — Boone and the Long Hunters, i 769-1 774 . 19 

IV. — Lord Dunmore's War, 1774 ... 29 

V. — The Battle of the Great Kanawha; and 

Logan's Speech, T774 .... 36 

\^ VI. — Boone and the Settlement of Kentucky, 

«775 47 

VII. — The War in the Northwest, i 777-1 778 . 55 

VIII. — Clark's Conquest of the Illinois, 1778 . 68 

IX. — Clark's Campaign against Vincennes, 1779. 81 

X. — The Moravian Massacre, i 779-1 782 . . 95 

XL — Kentucky until the End of the Revolu- 
tion, 1 782-1 783 105 

Xll. — The Watauga Commonwealth, 1769-1774 . 116 

XIII. — King's Mountain, 1780 . . . .122 

XIV. — The Holston Settlements to the End of 

the Revolution, i 781-1783 . .142 

XV. — Robertson Founds the Cumberland Settle- 
ment, 1779-1783 150 



XX Contents^ 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVI. — The Westerners in the Revolution . .158 

XVII. — The Inrush of Settlers, 1784-1787 . -177 

XVIII. — The State of Franklin, 1784-1788 . .189 

XIX. — Kentucky's Struggle for Statehood, 1784- 

1790 ........ 205 

XX. — The Northwest Territory; Ohio, 1787-1790 218 

XXI. — St. Clair's Defeat, 1791 .... 232 

XXII. — Mad Anthony Wayne and the Fight of 

the Fallen Timbers, 1792-1795 . . 252 

V XXIII. — Thf Purchase of Louisiana, 1803 . . 267 

U- XXIV. — The Explorers of the Far West, 1804-1807 275 



Sllusitrations^ 

PAGE 

Theodore Roosevelt .... Frontispiece 

From the painting by Sargent. 

View on the Prairie ...... 2 

Based on a sketch made during a government survey for the 
Pacific Railroad. 

Simon Kenton ........ 14 

From a painting by L. W. Morgan. 

Daniel Boone ........ 20 

From the painting by Chester Harding. 

Hunters and Trappers ...... 24 

From a drawing by R. F. Zogbaum. 

Benjamin Logan ....... 30 

From a crayon sketch. 

Isaac Shelby, First Governor of Kentucky . . 38 

From a painting by Matthew H. Jouett. 

Fort at Boonsborough ...... 48 

From a ground plan by Colonel Richard Henderson. 

Captain Robert Patterson ..... 54 

From a painting. 

John Floyd ........ 62 

From a crayon sketch. 

A Banquet in the Wilderness ..... 86 

From a drawing by F. S. Church. 

John Sevier, Governor OF Tennessee . . . 124 

From an old lithograph print. 



xxii SUufiStrationj; 



PAGE 



Battle OF King's Mountain . . . . .132 

From a steel engraving. 

Cave-in Rock on the Ohio River .... 160 

From an engraving by Charles Bodmer. 

View on the Mississippi ..... . 186 

From an old print. 

Prairie du Rocher ....... 200 

From a steel engraving. 

General George Rogers Clark .... 208 

From a painting by Matthew H. Jouett. 

Marietta in 1792 ....... 232 

Redrawn trom Blanchard's Discovery and Conquests of the 

Northwest. 

Michilimackinac ....... 264 

Redrawn from an early print. 

William C. C. Claiborne ...... 268 

From an engraving of the painting by Chappel. 

A Mandan Village ....... 278 

From an old print. ^ 

View on the Yellowstone River .... 282 

From a photograph. 

St. Louis in the Early Part of the 19th Century . 286 

Redrawn from a picture by Catlin. 



Stories from 

The Winning of the West 



Stories; from 

Uhc OTinning of the Meet 



CHAPTER I 

THE INDIANS OF THE BORDER 

WHEN we declared ourselves an independent 
nation, there were on our borders three groups 
of Indian peoples. The northernmost were 
the Iroquois or Six Nations, who dwelt in New York, 
and stretched down into Pennsylvania. They had 
been for two centuries the terror of every other Indian 
tribe east of the Mississippi, as well as of the whites; 
but their strength had already departed. 

In the Southwest, between the Tennessee — then 
called the Cherokee — and the Gulf, the so-called 
Appalachians lived. These were divided into five lax 
confederacies: the Cherokees, Chickasaws, Choctaws, 
Creeks, and Seminoles. They were far more numerous 
than the northwestern Indians, were less nomadic, and 
in consequence had more definite possession of particu- 
lar localities; so that their lands were more densely 
peopled. 



2 OTimmng of tfje OTesit 

The Cherokees, some twelve thousand strong, were 
the mountaineers of their race. They dwelt among 
the blue-topped ridges and lofty peaks of the southern 
Alleghanies, in the wild and picturesque region where 
the present States of Tennessee, Alabama, Georgia, 
and the Carolinas join one another. 

To the west of the Cherokees, on the banks of the 
Mississippi, were the Chickasaws, the smallest of the 
southern nations, numbering at the outside but four 
thousand persons. South of these lived the Choctaws, 
the rudest and historically the least important of these 
Indians. 

The Creeks were the strongest of all. Their southern 
bands, living in Florida, were generally considered as 
a separate confederacy, under the name of Seminoles. 
They numbered in all between twenty-five and thirty 
thousand, three-fourths of them being the Creeks 
proper, and the remainder Seminoles. They dwelt 
south of the Cherokees, and east of the Choctaws, 
adjoining the Georgians. The Creeks and Cherokees 
were thus by their position the barrier tribes of the 
South, who had to stand the brunt of our advance, and 
who acted as a buffer between us and the French and 
Spaniards of the Gulf and the lower Mississippi. 

The towns of the Cherokees stretched from the high 
upland region, where rise the loftiest mountains of 
eastern America, to the warm, level, low country, the 
land of the cypress and the long-leaved pine. Each 
village stood by itself, in some fertile river-bottom, with 
around it apple orchards and fields of maize. Like the 



shxBiS. sxi;t no waiV 

sdi loi xd-nu< Jnsmmsvoa e §rmjjb sbsm rioisjla b no baeaS 



Yisv on xhe Praiiie 

OE E ^;eccr made uniiiig £ govermnen": survey iarlie 



^i)t Snbians; of tfje S^orber 3 

other southern Indians, the Cherokees were more 
industrious than their northern neighbors, hved by 
tillage and agriculture as much as by hunting, and kept 
horses, hogs, and poultry. 

The Cherokees were a bright, intelligent race, better 
fitted to "follow the white man's road" than any other 
Indians. Their confederacy was of the loosest kind. 
Every town acted just as it pleased, making war or 
peace with the other towns, or with whites, Choctaws, 
or Cherokees. In each there was a nominal head for 
peace and war, the high chief and the head warrior. 
But these chiefs had little control, and could not do 
much more than influence or advise their subjects; 
they were dependent on the will of the majority. It 
was said that never, in the memory of the oldest inhabi- 
tant, had half the nation ''taken the war talk" at 
the same time. As a consequence, war parties of 
Creeks were generally merely small bands of marauders, 
in search of scalps and plunder. 

Between the Ohio and the Great Lakes, directly north 
of the Appalachian confederacies, and separated from 
them by the unpeopled wilderness now forming the 
States of Tennessee and Kentucky, dwelt another set 
of Indian tribes. They were ruder in life and manners 
than their southern kinsmen, less advanced towards 
civilization, but also far more warlike; they depended 
more on the chase and fishing, and much less on agri- 
culture; they were savages, not merely barbarians; 
they were fewer in numbers, and were scattered over a 
wider expanse of territory. 



4 OTinning of tfje OTiesit 

Their relations with the Iroquois, who lay east of 
them, were generally hostile. They were also usually 
at odds with the southern Indians, but among them- 
selves they were frequently united in time of war into 
a sort of lax league, and were collectively designated 
as the northwestern Indians. All the tribes belonged 
to the great Algonquin family, with two exceptions, 
the Winnebagos and the Wyandots. The Wyandots 
or Hurons lived near Detroit and along the south shore 
of Lake Erie, and were in battle our most redoubtable 
foes. They were close kin to the Iroquois, though 
bitter enemies to them, and they shared the desperate 
valor of these, their hostile kinsfolk, holding them- 
selves above the surrounding Algonquins, with whom, 
nevertheless, they lived in peace and friendship. 

The chief tribes of the Algonquins were well known 
and occupied tolerably definite locations. The Dela- 
wares dwelt farthest east, lying northwest "of the upper 
Ohio, their lands adjoining those of the Senecas, the 
largest and most westernmost of the Six Nations. 
Westward of the Delawares lay the Shawnee villages, 
along the Scioto and on the Pickaway plains; but it 
must be remembered that the Shawnees, Delawares, 
and Wyandots were closely united and their villages 
were often mixed in together. Still farther to the 
west, the Miamis lived between the Miami and the 
Wabash, together with other associated tribes, the 
Piankeshaws and the Weas or Ouatinous. Farther 
still, around the French villages, dwelt those scattered 
survivors of the Illinois who had escaped the dire fate 



®fje Snbians; of tfje JSorber 5 

which befell their fellow-tribesmen because they mur- 
dered Pontiac. Northward of this scanty people lived 
the Sacs and Foxes, and around the upper Great Lakes 
the numerous and powerful Pottawattamies, Ottawas, 
and Chippewas; fierce and treacherous warriors, who 
did not till the soil, and were hunters and fishers only, 
more savage even than the tribes that lay southeast of 
them. 

The Wyandots, and the Algonquins who surrounded 
them, dwelt in a region of sunless, tangled forests; 
and all the wars we waged for the possession of the 
country between the Alleghanies and the Mississippi 
were carried on in the never-ending stretches of gloomy 
woodland. It was not an open forest. The under- 
brush grew dense and rank between the tall trees, 
making a cover so thick that it was in many places 
impenetrable, so thick that it nowhere gave a chance 
for human eye to see even as far as a bow could carry. 

This dense forest was to the Indians a home in which 
they had lived from childhood, and where they were as 
much at ease as a farmer on his own acres. To their 
keen eyes, trained for generations to more than a wild 
beast's watchfulness, the wilderness was an open book; 
nothing at rest or in motion escaped them. They had 
begun to track game as soon as they could walk; a 
scrape on a tree trunk, a bruised leaf, a faint indenta- 
tion of the soil, which the eye of no white man could 
see, all told them a tale as plainly as if it had been 
shouted in their ears. 

Unlike the southern Indians, the villages of the 



imm of tfje aaaegt 

northwestern tribes were usually far from the frontier. 
Tireless, and careless of all hardship, they came silently 
out of unknown forests, robbed and murdered, and then 
disappeared again into the fathomless depths of the 
woods. Half of the terror they caused was due to the 
extreme difficulty of following them, and the absolute 
impossibility of forecasting their attacks. Without 
warning, and unseen until the moment they dealt the 
death stroke, they emerged from their forest fastnesses, 
the horror they caused being heightened no less by 
the mystery that shrouded them than by the dreadful 
nature of their ravages. 

When hemmed in so that they had no hope of escape, 
the Indians fought to the death; but when a way of 
retreat was open, they would not stand cutting like 
British, French, or American regulars, and so, though 
with a nearly equal force, would retire if they were 
suffering heavily, even if they were causing their foes 
to suffer still more. This was not due to lack of cour- 
age; it was their system, for they were few in numbers, 
and they did not believe in losing their men. The 
Wyandots were exceptions to this rule, for with them 
it was a point of honor not to yield, and so they were 
of all the tribes the most dangerous in a pitched battle. 

Among the Indians of the Northwest, generally so 
much alike that we need pay little heed to tribal dis- 
tinctions, there was one body deserving especial and 
separate mention. Among the turbulent and jarring 
elements tossed into wild confusion by the shock of the 
contact between savages and the rude vanguard of 



Wt)t Snbians; of tfie Porber 7 

civilization, surrounded and threatened by the painted 
warriors of the woods no less than by the lawless white 
riflemen who lived on the stump-dotted clearings, there 
dwelt a group of peaceful beings who were destined to 
sufi^er a dire fate in the most lamentable and pitiable of 
all the tragedies which were played out in the heart of 
this great wilderness. These were the Moravian Indi- 
ans. They were mostly Delawares, and had been con- 
verted by the indefatigable German missionaries, who 
taught the tranquil, Quaker-like creed of Count Zin- 
zendorf. The zeal and success of the missionaries 
were attested by the marvelous change they had 
wrought in these converts; for they had transformed 
them in one generation from a restless, idle, blood- 
thirsty people of hunters and fishers, into an orderly, 
thrifty, industrious folk, believing with all their hearts 
the Christian religion in the form in which their teach- 
ers both preached and practised it. At first the mis- 
sionaries, surrounded by their Indian converts, dwelt 
in Pennsylvania; but, harried and oppressed by their 
white neighbors, the submissive and patient Moravians 
left their homes and their cherished belongings, and in 
1 77 1 moved out into the wilderness northwest of the 
Ohio. 

When the Moravians removed beyond the Ohio, they 
settled on the banks of the Muskingum, made clearings 
in the forest, and built themselves little towns, which 
they christened by such quaint names as Salem and 
Gnadenhiitten; names that were pathetic symbols of 
the peace which the harmless and sadly submissive 



8 OTinnins of tfje OTesit 

wanderers so vainly sought. Here, in the forest, they 
worked and toiled, surrounded their clean, neatly kept 
villages with orchards and grain-fields, bred horses and 
cattle, and tried to do wrong to no man; all of each 
community meeting every day to worship and praise 
their Creator. 



CHAPTER II 

THE BACKWOODSMEN 

ALONG the western frontier of the colonies that 
were soon to be the United States, among the 
foothills of the Alleghanies, on the slopes of 
the wooded mountains, and in the long trough-like val- 
leys that lay between the ranges, dwelt a peculiar and 
characteristically American people. 

These frontier folk, the people of the up-country, or 
back-country, who lived near and among the forest-clad 
mountains, were known to themselves and to others as 
backwoodsmen. They all bore a strong likeness to one 
or another in their habits of thought and ways of living, 
and differed markedly from the people of the older and 
more civilized communities to the eastward. The west- 
ern border of our country was then formed by the great 
barrier-chains of the Alleghanies, the trend of the val- 
leys being parallel to the sea-coast, and the mountains 
rising highest to the southward. It was difficult to 
cross the ranges from east to west, but it was both easy 
and natural to follow the valleys between. 

The backwoodsmen were Americans by birth and 
parentage, and of mixed race; but the dominant strain 
in their blood was that of the Presbyterian Irish — the 

9 



10 Minnmg of tjie Wit^t 

Scotch-Irish as they were often called. Full credit has 
been awarded the Roundhead and the Cavalier for their 
leadership in our history; nor have we been altogether 
blind to the deeds of the Hollander and the Huguenot; 
but it is doubtful if we have wholly realized the import- 
ance of the part played by that stern and virile people, 
the Irish, whose preachers taught the creed of Knox and 
Calvin. These Irish representatives of the Covenant- 
ers were in the West almost what the Puritans were in 
the Northeast, and more than the Cavaliers were in the 
South. Mingled with the descendants of many other 
races, they formed the kernel of the distinctively and 
intensely American stock who were the pioneers of our 
people in their march westward. 

The Presbyterian Irish were themselves already a 
mixed people. Though mainly descended from Scotch 
ancestors, many of them were of English, a few of 
French Huguenot extraction. They were the Protest- 
ants of the Protestants; they detested and despised the 
Catholics, whom their ancestors had conquered, and 
regarded the Episcopalians by whom they themselves 
had been oppressed, with a more sullen, but scarcely 
less intense hatred. 

They did not begin to come to America in any num- 
bers till after the opening of the eighteenth century; 
by 1730 they were fairly swarming across the ocean, 
for the most part in two streams, the larger going to 
the port of Philadelphia, the smaller to the port of 
Charleston. Pushing through the long settled low- 
lands of the seacoast, they at once made their abode at 



the foot of the mountains, and became the outposts of 
civiHzation. From Pennsylvania, whither the great 
majority had come, they drifted south along the foot- 
hills, and down the long valleys, till they met their 
brethren from Charleston who had pushed up into the 
Carolina back-country. In this land of hills, covered 
by unbroken forest, they took root and flourished, 
stretching in a broad belt from north to south, a shield 
of sinewy men thrust in between the people of the sea- 
board and the red warriors of the wilderness. 

The two facts of most importance to remember in 
dealing with our pioneer history are, first, that the 
western portions of Virginia and the Carolinas were 
peopled by an entirely difi^erent stock from that which 
had long existed in the tide-water region of those colo- 
nies; and, secondly, that, except for those in the Caro- 
linas who came from Charleston, the immigrants of 
this stock were mostly from the North, from their great 
breeding-ground and nursery in western Pennsylvania. 

That these Irish Presbyterians were a bold and hardy 
race is proved by their at once pushing past the settled 
regions and plunging into the wilderness as the leaders 
of the white advance. They were the first and last set 
of immigrants to do this; all others have merely fol- 
lowed in the wake of their predecessors. But, indeed, 
they were fitted to be Americans from the very start; 
they were kinsfolk of the Covenanters; they deemed it 
a religious duty to interpret their own Bible, and held 
for a divine right the election of their own clergy. For 
generations their whole ecclesiastic and scholastic sys- 



12 



OTinning of tf}t OTesit 



terns had been fundamentally democratic. The creed 
of the backwoodsman who had a creed at all was Pres- 
byterianism; for the Episcopacy of the tide-water 
lands obtained no foothold in the mountains, and the 
Methodists and Baptists had but just begun to appear 
in the West when the Revolution broke out. 

Backwoods society was simple, and the duties and 
rights of each member of the family were plain and 
clear. The man was the armed protector and provider, 
the bread-winner; the woman was the housewife and 
child-bearer. They married young and their families 
were large, for they were strong and healthy, and their 
success in life depended on their own stout arms and 
willing hearts. There was everywhere great equality 
of conditions. Land was plenty and all else scarce; 
so courage, thrift, and industry were sure of their 
reward. All had small farms, with the few stock neces- 
sary to cultivate them; the farms being generally 
placed in the hollows, the division lines between them, 
if they were close together, being the tops of the ridges. 
The buildings of each farm were usually at its lowest 
point, as if in the center of an amphitheatre. 

Each backwoodsman was not only a small farmer 
but also a hunter; for his wife and children depended 
for their meat upon the venison and bear's flesh 
procured by his rifle. His weapon was the long, small- 
bore, flint-lock rifle, clumsy, and ill-balanced, but 
exceedingly accurate. It was very heavy, and when 
upright, reached to the chin of a tall man; for the barrel 
of thick, soft iron, was four feet in length, while the 



l^fje PacfetDoobsimen 13 

stock was short, and the butt scooped out. It was 
almost always fired from a rest, and rarely at long range. 

In the backwoods there was very little money; bar- 
ter was the common form of exchange, and peltries 
were often used as a circulating medium, a beaver, 
otter, fisher, dressed buckskin or large bearskin being 
reckoned as equal to two foxes or wildcats, four coons, 
or eight minks. A young man inherited nothing from 
his father but his strong frame and eager heart; but 
before him lay a whole continent wherein to pitch his 
farm, and he felt ready to marry as soon as he became 
of age, even though he had nothing but his clothes, his 
horses, his axe, and his rifle. If a girl was well off^, 
and had been careful and industrious, she might her- 
self bring a dowry, of a cow and a calf, a brood mare, 
a bed well stocked with blankets, and a chest contain- 
ing her clothes. 

The first lesson the backwoodsmen learnt was the 
necessity of self-help ; the next, that such a community 
could only thrive if all joined in helping one another. 
Log-rollings, house-raisings, house-warmings, corn- 
shuckings, quiltings, and the like were occasions when 
all the neighbors came together to do what the family 
itself could hardly accomplish alone. Every such 
meeting was the occasion of a frolic and dance for the 
young people, whisky and rum being plentiful, and the 
host exerting his utmost power to spread the table with 
backwoods delicacies — bear-meat and venison, vege- 
tables from the "truck patch," where squashes, melons, 
beans, and the like were grown, wild fruits, bowls of 



H Winning of tfte Wit^t 

milk, and apple pies, which were the acknowledged 
standard of luxury. 

The young men prided themselves on their bodily 
strength, and were always eager to contend against 
one another in athletic games, such as wrestling, rac- 
ing, jumping, and lifting flour-barrels; and they also 
sought distinction in vying with one another at their 
work. Sometimes they strove against one another 
singly, sometimes they divided into parties, each bend- 
ing all its energies to be first in shucking a given heap 
of corn or cutting (with sickles) an allotted patch 
of wheat. Among the men the bravos or bullies often 
were dandies also in the backwoods fashions, wearing 
their hair long and delighting in the rude finery of 
hunting-shirts embroidered with porcupine quills; they 
were loud, boastful, and profane, given to coarsely 
bantering one another. Brutally savage fights were 
frequent; the combatants, who were surrounded by 
rings of interested spectators, striking, kicking, biting, 
and gouging. We first hear of the noted scout and 
Indian fighter, Simon Kenton, as leaving a rival for 
dead after one of these ferocious duels, and fleeing from 
his home in terror of the punishment that might follow 
the deed. Such fights were specially frequent when 
the backwoodsmen went into the little frontier towns 
to see horse races or fairs. 

A wedding was always a time of festival. If there 
was a church anywhere near, the bride rode thither on 
horseback behind her father, and after the service her 
pillion was shifted to the bridegroom's steed. If, as 







■^S>»«>»isc»??r. ?.ssi . -'^■ssiM 



i 'iA£4ti't 



Simon Kenton 

From a painting by L. W. Morgan 



Vli}t Pacfetooobsimen 15 

generally happened, there was no church, the groom 
and his friends, all armed, rode to the house of the 
bride's father, plenty of whisky being drunk, and the 
men racing recklessly along the narrow bridle-paths, 
for there were few roads or wheeled vehicles in the 
backwoods. At the bride's house the ceremony was 
performed, and then a huge dinner was eaten; after 
which the fiddling and dancing began, and were con- 
tinued all the afternoon, and most of the night as well. 
A party of girls stole off the bride and put her to bed 
in the loft above; and a party of young men then per- 
formed the like service for the groom. The fun was 
hearty and coarse, and the toasts always included one 
to the young couple, with the wish that they might 
have many big children; for as long as they could 
remember the backwoodsmen had lived at war, while 
looking ahead they saw no chance of its ever stopping, 
and so each son was regarded as a future warrior, a 
help to the whole community. The neighbors all 
joined again in chopping and rolling the logs for the 
young couple's future house, then in raising the house 
itself, and finally in feasting and dancing at the house- 
warming. 

Each family did everything that could be done for 
itself. The father and sons worked with axe, hoe, and 
sickle. Almost every house contained a loom, and 
almost every woman was a weaver. Linsey-woolsey, 
made from flax grown near the cabin, and of wool from 
the backs of the few sheep, was the warmest and most 
substantial cloth; and when the flax crop failed and 



i6 TOinning of tfje OTiesit 

the flocks were destroyed by wolves, the children had 
but scanty covering to hide their nakedness. The man 
tanned the buckskin, the woman was tailor and shoe- 
maker, and made the deer-skin sifters to be used instead 
of bolting cloths. There were a few pewter spoons 
in use; but the table furniture consisted mainly of 
hand-made trenchers, platters, noggins, and bowls. 
The cradle was of peeled hickory bark. Ploughshares 
had to be imported, but harrows and sleds were made 
without difficulty; and the cooper work was well done. 
Each cabin had a hand-mill and a hominy block; the 
last was borrowed from the Indians, and was only a 
large block of wood, with a hole burned in the top, 
as a mortar, where the pestle was worked. If there 
were any sugar maples accessible, they were tapped 
every year. 

But some articles, especially salt and iron, could not 
be produced in the backwoods. In order to get them 
each family collected during the year all the furs pos- 
sible, these being valuable and yet easily carried on 
pack-horses, the sole means of transport. Then, after 
seeding time, in the fall, the people of a neighborhood 
ordinarily joined in sending down a train of peltry- 
laden pack-horses to some large seacoast or tidal-river 
trading town, where their burdens were bartered for 
the needed iron and salt. 

The life of the backwoodsmen was one long struggle. 
The forest had to be felled, droughts, deep snows, 
freshets, cloudbursts, forest fires, and all the other 
dangers of a wilderness life faced. Swarms of deer- 



STfje iBacfettioobsimen 17 

flies, mosquitoes, and midges rendered life a torment in 
the weeks of hot weather. Rattlesnakes and copper- 
heads were very plentiful, and, the former especially, 
constant sources of danger and death. Wolves and 
bears were incessant and inveterate foes of the live 
stock, and the cougar or panther occasionally attacked 
man as well. 

These armed hunters, woodchoppers, and farmers 
were their own soldiers. They built and manned their 
own forts; they did their own fighting under their 
own commanders. There were no regiments of regular 
troops along the frontier. In the event of an Indian 
inroad each borderer had to defend himself until there 
was time for them all to gather together to repel or 
avenge it. Every man was accustomed to the use of 
arms from his childhood; when a boy was twelve years 
old he was given a rifle and made a fort-soldier, with a 
loophole where he was to stand if the station was 
attacked. The war was never-ending, for even the 
times of so-called peace were broken by forays and 
murders; a man might grow from babyhood to middle 
age on the border, and yet never remember a year in 
which some one of his neighbors did not fall a victim to 
the Indians. 

Thus the backwoodsmen lived on the clearings they 
had hewed out of the everlasting forest; a grim, stern 
people, strong and simple, powerful for good and evil, 
swayed by gusts of stormy passion, the love of freedom 
rooted in their very hearts' core. Their lives were 
harsh and narrow; they gained their bread by their 



i8 OTmning of tfje W&t&t 

blood and sweat, in the unending struggle with the 
wild ruggedness of nature. They suffered terrible in- 
juries at the hands of the red men, and on their foes 
they waged a terrible warfare in return. They were 
relentless, revengeful, suspicious, knowing neither ruth 
nor pity; they were also upright, resolute, and fearless, 
loyal to their friends, and devoted to their country. 
In spite of their many failings, they were of all men 
the best fitted to conquer the wilderness and hold it 
against all comers. 



CHAPTER III 

BOONE AND THE LONG HUNTERS 

I 769-1 774 

THE American backwoodsmen had surged up, 
wave upon wave, till their mass trembled in the 
troughs of the Alleghanies, ready to flood the 
continent beyond. The peoples threatened by them 
were dimly conscious of the danger which as yet only 
loomed in the distance. Spaniard and Creole French- 
man, Algonquin and Appalachian, were all uneasy as 
they began to feel the first faint pressure of the Ameri- 
can advance- 
As yet they had been shielded by the forest which 
lay over the land like an unrent mantle. All through 
the mountains, and far beyond, it stretched without a 
break; but towards the mouth of the Kentucky and 
Cumberland rivers the landscape became varied with 
open groves of woodland, with flower-strewn glades 
and great barrens or prairies of long grass. This 
region, one of the fairest in the world, was the debat- 
able ground between the northern and the southern 
Indians. Neither dared dwell therein, but both used 
it as their hunting-grounds; and it was traversed from 
end to end by the well-marked war traces which they 

19 



20 Wiimm of tfje OTefit 

followed, when they invaded each other's territory. 
The whites, on trying to break through the barrier 
which hemmed them in from the western lands, natu- 
rally succeeded best when pressing along the line of 
least resistance; and so their first great advance was 
made into this debatable land, the hunting-grounds of 
the Cherokee, Creek, and Chickasaw, and of the north- 
ern Algonquin and Wyandot. 

Unknown and unnamed hunters and Indian traders 
had from time to time pushed some little way into the 
wilderness. One explorer had found and named the 
Cumberland river and mountains, and the great pass 
called Cumberland Gap. Others had hunted in the 
great bend of the Cumberland and in the woodland 
region of Kentucky, famed amongst the Indians for 
the abundance of the game. But their accounts ex- 
cited no more than a passing interest ; they came and 
went without comment, as lonely stragglers had come 
and gone for nearly a century. The backwoods civili- 
zation crept slowly westward without being influenced 
in its movements by their explorations. 

Finally, however, among these hunters one arose 
whose wanderings were to bear fruit; who was destined 
to lead through the wilderness the first body of settlers 
that ever established a community in the far west, 
completely cut off from the seaboard colonies. This 
was Daniel Boone. He was born in Pennsylvania in 
1734, but when only a boy had been brought with the 
rest of his family to the banks of the Yadkin in North 
Carolina. Here he grew up, and as soon as he came 



Daniel Boone 

From the painting by Chester Harding 



thai -. 
complet 



5ioone anb tfje Hong ^nnttv^ 21 

of age he married, built a log hut, and made a clear- 
ing, whereon to farm like the rest of his backwoods 
neighbors. 

With Boone hunting and exploration were passions, 
and the lonely life of the wilderness, with its bold, wild 
freedom, the only existence for which he really cared. 
He was a tall, spare, sinewy man, with eyes like an 
eagle's, and muscles that never tired; the toil and 
hardship of his life made no impress on his iron frame, 
unhurt by intemperance of any kind, and he lived for 
eighty-six years, a backwoods hunter to the end of his 
days. His thoughtful, quiet, pleasant face was the 
face of a man who never blustered or bullied, who 
would neither inflict nor suffer any wrong, and who 
had a limitless fund of fortitude, endurance, and in- 
domitable resolution upon which to draw when for- 
tune proved adverse. His self-command and patience, 
his daring, restless love of adventure, and, in time of 
danger, his absolute trust in his own powers and re- 
sources, all combined to render him peculiarly fitted to 
follow the career of which he was so fond. 

Boone hunted in the edges of the wilderness, just 
over the mountains, at an early date. In the valley 
of Boone's Creek, a tributary of the Watauga, there is 
a beech tree still standing, on which can be faintly 
traced an inscription setting forth that "D. Boone 
cilled a bar on (this) tree in the year 1760." 

His expeditions whetted his appetite for the unknown. 
He had heard of great hunting-grounds in the far in- 
terior, and on May i, 1769, he left his home on the 



22 atJHinning of tfje Wit^t 

Yadkin "to wander through the wilderness of America 
in quest of the country of Kentucky/' Accompanied 
by five men he struck out towards the northwest, 
through the tangled mass of rugged mountains and 
gloomy forests. After five weeks of severe toil the 
little band stood on the threshold of the beautiful blue- 
grass region of Kentucky; a land of running waters, of 
groves and glades, of prairies, canebrakes, and stretches 
of lofty forest, teeming with game. The shaggy-maned 
herds of unwieldly buffalo — the bison as they should be 
called — had beaten out broad trails along which they 
had travelled for countless generations. The round- 
horned elk, with spreading, massive antlers, the lordliest 
of the deer tribe throughout the world, abounded, and 
like the buffalo traveled in bands not only through the 
woods but also across the reaches of waving grass land. 
The deer were extraordinarily numerous, and so were 
bears, while wolves and panthers were plentiful. 

In December, after six months of successful hunting, 
the party was attacked by Indians, and Boone and a 
companion were captured. When they escaped, they 
found their camp broken up, and their party gone 
home. By good luck, about this time, Boone was 
joined by his brother. Squire Boone, who had set out 
to find him and to explore this same region. Soon 
afterwards Daniel's companion in captivity was killed 
by the Indians, while Squire's companion was fright- 
ened back to the settlements by the sight of red men. 
The two brothers remained alone on their hunting- 
grounds throughout the winter, living in a little cabin. 



JBoone anb tfje long ?|untErs( 23 

About the first of May, Squire set off alone to the set- 
tlements to procure horses and ammunition; while 
for three months Daniel Boone remained absolutely 
alone in the wilderness, without salt, sugar, or flour, 
and without the companionship of so much as a horse 
or a dog. But the solitude-loving hunter, dauntless 
and self-reliant, enjoyed to the full his wild, lonely 
life; he passed his days hunting and exploring, wan- 
dering hither and thither over the country, while at 
night he lay off in the canebrakes or thickets, without 
a fire, so as not to attract the Indians. Of the latter 
he saw many signs, and they sometimes came to his 
camp, but his sleepless wariness enabled him to avoid 
capture. 

Late in July his brother returned, and met him 
according to appointment at the old camp. Other 
hunters also now came into the Kentucky wilderness, 
and Boone joined a small party of them for a short time. 
Soon after this, however, the increasing danger from 
the Indians drove Boone back to the valley of the 
Cumberland River, and in the spring of 1771 he 
returned to his home on the Yadkin. 

In the summer of 1769, the same year that Boone 
started, a large band of hunters crossed the mountains 
to make a long hunt in the western wilderness with 
traps, rifles, and dogs, each bringing with him two or 
three horses. They made their way down the Cumber- 
land until they came to the great barrens of tall grass, 
where they made a permanent camp, and returned to 
it at intervals to deposit their skins and peltries. 



24 OTimning of tfje OTes(t 

At the end of the year some of the adventurers 
returned home; others went north Into the Kentucky 
country, where they hunted for several months before 
recrossing the mountains; while the remainder, led by 
an old hunter named Kasper Mansker, built two boats 
and hollowed out of logs two pirogues or dugouts — 
clumsier but tougher craft than the light birch-bark 
canoes — and started down the Cumberland. At the 
French Lick, where Nashville now stands, they saw 
enormous quantities of buffalo, elk, and other game, 
more than they had ever seen before in any one place. 
Some of their goods were taken by a party of Indians 
they met, but some French traders, whom they likewise 
encountered, treated them well and gave them salt, 
flour, tobacco, and taffia, the last being especially 
prized, as they had had no spirits for a year. They 
went down to Natchez, sold their furs, hides, oil, and 
tallow, and some returned by sea, while others, includ- 
ing Mansker, came overland with a drove of horses 
through the Indian nations to Georgia. On account 
of the length of time that all these men, as well as 
Boone and his companions, were absent, they were 
called the Long Hunters, and the fame of their hunt- 
ing and exploring spread all along the border and 
greatly excited the young men. 

Soon after the return of Boone and the Long Hunt- 
ers, parties of surveyors came down the Ohio, mapping 
out its course and exploring the Kentucky lands that 
lay beside it. There were several surveyors also in a 
band that came into the wilderness in 1773, led by 



fnuBcfgoS ."? .SI vd sniweil) fixnoi'i 



Hunters and Trappers 

From a drawing by R. F. Zogbaum 




7P jr yai) (to.u.m-^ 



5?oone anb tfje ILong Hunters; 25 

three young men named McAfee, — typical backwoods- 
men, hardy and adventurous. They descended the 
Ohio and explored part of Kentucky, visiting the dif- 
ferent licks. At one of these, famous because there 
were scattered about it the gigantic remains of the 
extinct mastodon, the McAfees made a tent by stretch- 
ing their blankets over the huge fossil ribs, using the 
disjointed vertebrae as stools on which to sit. At an- 
other the explorers met with what might have proved 
a serious adventure. One of the McAfees and a com- 
panion were passing round its outskirts, when some 
others of the party fired at a gang of buffalos, which 
stampeded directly towards the two. While his com- 
panion scampered up a leaning mulberry bush, McAfee, 
less agile, leaped behind a tree trunk, where he stood 
sideways till the buffalo passed, their horns scraping 
off the bark on either side; then he looked round to see 
his friend "hanging in the mulberry bush like a coon." 

When the party started homewards across the Cum- 
berland Mountains, it suffered terribly while making 
its way through the "desolate solitudes." At last, 
sun-scorched and rain-beaten, foot-sore and leg-weary, 
they came out in Powell's Valley, and followed the 
well-worn hunter's trail thence to their homes. 

In Powell's Valley they met the company which 
Daniel Boone was just leading across the mountains, 
with the hope of making a permanent settlement in far 
distant Kentucky. Boone had sold his farm on the 
Yadkin and all the goods he could not carry with him, 
and in September, 1773, he started for Kentucky with 



26 OTmning of tfje OTeiSt 

his wife and his children; five families, and forty men 
besides, went with him, driving their horses and cattle. 
On approaching the defiles of the Cumberland Moun- 
tains the party was attacked by Indians. Six men, 
including Boone's eldest son, were slain, and the cattle 
scattered; and though the backwoodsmen rallied and 
repulsed their assailants, yet they had sufi^ered such 
loss and damage that they retreated and took up their 
abode temporarily on the Clinch River. 

In the following year numerous parties of surveyors 
visited the land. One of these — eight men in all — 
headed by John Floyd, started on April 9, 1774, down 
the Kanawha in a canoe. They first surveyed two 
thousand acres for "Colo. Washington," and laid out 
another tract for Patrick Henry. On the way they 
encountered other parties of surveyors, and learned that 
an Indian war was threatened; for a party of thirteen 
settlers on the upper Ohio had been attacked, but had 
repelled their assailants, and in consequence the Shaw- 
nees had declared for war, and threatened thereafter 
to kill the Virginians and rob the Pennsylvanians 
wherever they found them. The reason for this dis- 
crimination in favor of the citizens of the Quaker State 
was that the Virginians with whom the Indians came 
chiefly in contact were settlers, whereas the Pennsyl- 
vanians were traders. 

At the mouth of the Kanawha the adventurers found 
twenty or thirty men gathered together. Some of them 
joined Floyd, and raised his party to eighteen men, who 
started down the Ohio in four canoes. When they 



J^oont anb tfje Hong J^unters( 27 

reached the Kentucky, they spHt up. Floyd and his 
original party, after spending a week in the neighbor- 
hood, again embarked, and drifted down the Ohio. On 
May 26th they met two Delawares who had been sent 
down the river from Fort Pitt to gather their hunters 
and get them home, in view of the threatened hostilities 
between the Shawnees and Virginians. The news they 
brought was so alarming, that some of Floyd's com- 
panions became greatly alarmed, and wished to go 
straight on down the Mississippi ; but Floyd swore that 
he would finish his work unless actually forced off. 
Three days afterwards they reached the Falls (now 
Louisville), where Floyd spent a fortnight, making 
surveys in every direction, and then started off to 
explore the land between the Salt River and the 
Kentucky. 

Soon afterwards, Floyd and three companions left 
the others, agreeing to meet them on August ist, 
at a cabin on the south side of the Kentucky, a 
few miles from the mouth of the Elkhorn. After 
surveying for three weeks, they then went to the 
cabin, several days before the appointed time; but 
to their surprise found everything scattered over the 
ground, while on a tree near the landing was written, 
*' Alarmed by finding some people killed and we are 
gone down.*' 

This left the four adventurers in a bad plight, as they 
had but fifteen rounds of powder left, and none of them 
knew the way home. However there was no help for 
it, and they started off. At last they struck Cumber- 



28 OTinning of tfje Wit^t 

land Gap, followed a blazed trail across it to Powell's 
Valley, and on August 9th came to the outlying settle- 
ments on Clinch River, where they found the settlers 
all in their wooden forts, because of the war with the 
Shawnees. 



CHAPTER IV 

LORD DUNMORE's WAR, I774 

ON the eve of the Revolution, in 1774, the fron- 
tiersmen had planted themselves firmly among 
the Alleghanies, and in the southwest and 
northwest alike, the area of settlement already touched 
the home lands of the tribes. But it was in the north- 
west that the danger of collision was most imminent ; for 
there the interests of the whites and Indians were, at the 
time, clashing more directly than ever. 

Virginia under her charter claimed westward and 
northwestward from the ocean an indefinite tract, 
limited only by her ability to explore and hold it. 
Similar grants to rival colonies led to endless con- 
fusion, bitter feeling, and nearly brought on an inter- 
colonial war. Particularly was this the case with the 
claim of Virginia to the valley of the Monongahela and 
all of extreme western Pennsylvania, where in 1774 
she proceeded boldly to exercise jurisdiction. 

For a time in the early part of 1774 there seemed 
quite as much likelihood of the Virginians being drawn 
into a fight with the Pennsylvanians as with the Shaw- 
nees. While the Pennsylvanian commissioners were 

trying to come to an agreement concerning the bound- 

29 



30 OTinning of tfje OTesit 

arles with Lord Dunmore, the royal governor of 
Virginia at the time, the representatives of the two 
contesting parties at Fort Pitt were on the verge of 
actual collision. The earl's agent in the disputed 
territory was a Captain John ConoUy, a man of violent 
temper and bad character. He formed the men favor- 
able to his side into a sort of militia, with which he not 
only menaced both hostile and friendly Indians, but 
the adherents of the Pennsylvanian government as 
well. He destroyed their houses, killed their cattle 
and hogs, impressed their horses, and finally so angered 
them that they threatened to take refuge in the stock- 
ade at Fort Pitt, and defy him to open war. 

There were on the border at the moment three or 
four men whose names are so intimately bound up with 
the history of this war, that they deserve a brief men- 
tion. One was Michael Cresap, a Maryland frontiers- 
man of the regular pioneer type. The next was a man 
named Greathouse, of whom it is enough to know that, 
together with certain other men whose names have for 
the most part been forgotten, he did a deed such as 
could only be committed by inhuman and cowardly 
scoundrels. 

The other two actors in this tragedy were both 
Indians, and were both men of much higher stamp. 
One was Cornstalk, the Shawnee chief, a great orator, a 
mighty warrior, a man who knew the value of his word 
and prized his honor, and who fronted death with quiet, 
disdainful heroism; and yet a fierce, cruel, and treacher- 
ous savage to those with whom he was at enmity. The 



Benjamin Logan 

From a crayon sketch 



Hovh Bunmore's; OTiar, 1 774 31 

other was Logan, an Iroquois warrior, who lived at that 
time away from the bulk of his people. He was a man 
of splendid appearance; over six feet high, straight as 
a spear-shaft, with a countenance as open as it was 
brave and manly, until the wrongs he endured stamped 
on it an expression of gloomy ferocity. He had always 
been the friend of the white man, and had been noted 
particularly for his kindness and gentleness to chil- 
dren. One of the pioneer hunters has left on record 
the statement that he deemed "Logan the best 
specimen of humanity he ever met with, either white 
or red." 

Early in the spring of 1774, the outlying settlers 
began again to suffer from the deeds of straggling 
Indians. Horses were stolen, one or two murders were 
committed, the inhabitants of the more lonely cabins 
fled to the forts, and the backwoodsmen began to 
threaten fierce vengeance. On April i6th, three traders 
in the employ of a man named Butler were attacked 
by some of the outlaw Cherokees, one killed, another 
wounded, and their goods plundered. Immediately 
after this Conolly issued an open letter, commanding 
the backwoodsmen to hold themselves in readiness to 
repel any attack by the Indians, as the Shawnees were 
hostile. Such a letter from Lord Dunmore's lieutenant 
amounted to a declaration of war, and there were sure 
to be plenty of backwoodsmen who would put a very 
liberal interpretation upon the order given them to repel 
an attack. Its effects were seen instantly. All the 
borderers prepared for war. Cresap was near Wheeling 



32 Wiimm of tfje OTesit 

at the time, with a band of hunters and scouts. As 
soon as they received Conolly's letter, they proceeded 
to declare war in the regular Indian style, calling a 
council, planting the war-post, and going through other 
savage ceremonies. 

Unfortunately the first stroke fell on friendly Indians. 
The trader, Butler, spoken of above, in order to recover 
some of the peltries of which he had been robbed by the 
Cherokees, had sent a canoe with two friendly Shawnees 
towards the place of the massacre. On the 27th Cre- 
sap and his followers ambushed these men and killed 
and scalped them. Some of the better backwoodsmen 
strongly protested against this outrage; but the mass of 
them were excited and angered by the rumor of Indian 
hostilities, and the brutal and disorderly side of fron- 
tier character was for the moment uppermost. They 
threatened to kill whoever interfered with them, cursing 
the traders as being worse than the Indians; while 
Cresap boasted of the murder, and never said a word in 
condemnation of the still worse deeds that followed it. 
The next day he again led out his men and attacked 
another party of Shawnees, who had been trading near 
Pittsburg, killed one and wounded two others, one of the 
whites being also hurt. 

On the following day the whole band of whites pre- 
pared to attack Logan's camp at Yellow Creek, some 
fifty miles distant. After going some miles they began 
to feel ashamed of their mission; calling a halt, they 
discussed the fact that the camp they were pre- 
paring to attack consisted exclusively of friendly 



lorb Bunmore's; ®!lar, 1 774 33 

Indians, and mainly of women and children; and 
forthwith abandoned their proposed trip and returned 
home. 

But Logan's people did not profit by Cresap's change 
of heart. On the last day of April a small party of 
men, women, and children, including almost all of 
Logan's kin, left his camp and crossed the river to visit 
Greathouse, as had been their custom; for he made a 
trade of selling rum to the savages, though Cresap had 
notified him to stop. The whole party were plied with 
liquor, and became helplessly drunk, in which condition 
Greathouse and his associated criminals fell on and 
massacred them, nine in all. 

At once the frontier was in a blaze, and the Indians 
sent out runners to tell of the butchery and to summon 
the tribes for immediate and bloody vengeance. The 
Indians declared that they were not at war with Penn- 
sylvania, and the latter in return adopted an attitude 
of neutrality, openly disclaiming any share in the wrong 
that had been done, and assuring the Indians that it 
rested solely on the shoulders of the Virginians. Indeed, 
the Shawnees protected the Pennsylvania traders 
from some hostile Mingos, while the Pennsylvania 
militia shielded a party of Shawnees from some of 
Conolly's men; and the Virginians, irritated by what 
they considered an abandonment of the white cause, 
were bent on destroying the Pennsylvania fur trade 
with the Indians. 

Although the panic along the Pennsylvania frontier 
was intense, on the Virginian frontier it was more justi- 



34 Saainnins of tfie OTesit 

fiable; for dreadful ravages were committed, and the 
inhabitants were forced to gather together in their 
forted villages, and could no longer cultivate their 
farms, except by stealth. Instead of being cowed, 
however, the backwoodsmen clamored to be led 
against their foes, and made most urgent appeals 
for powder and lead, of which there was a great 
scarcity. 

Logan's rage had been terrible. The horrible treach- 
ery and brutality of the assault wherein his kinsfolk 
were slain made him mad for revenge, and he instantly 
fell on the settlements with a small band of warriors. 
On his first foray he took thirteen scalps, and ambushed 
the party that followed him, slaying their leader. He 
repeated these forays at least three times. Yet, in spite 
of his fierce craving for revenge, he still showed many 
of the traits that had made him beloved of his white 
friends. Having taken a prisoner, he refused to allow 
him to be tortured, and saved his life at the risk of his 
own. A few days afterwards he suddenly appeared to 
this prisoner with some gunpowder ink, and dictated to 
him a note. On his next expedition this note, tied to a 
war-club, was left in the house of a settler whose entire 
family was murdered. It ran as follows: 

"Captain Cresap: 

"What did you kill my people on Yellow Creek for? 
The white people killed my kin at Conestoga, a great 
while ago, and I thought nothing of that. But you 
killed my kin again on Yellow Creek, and took my 



TLovh ©unmore^s; ®Kar, 1 774 35 

cousin prisoner. Then I thought I must kill too; and 

I have been three times to war since; but the Indians 

are not angry, only myself. 

Captain John Logan." 
"July 21, 1774- 



CHAPTER V 

THE BATTLE OF THE GREAT KANAWHA; AND LOGAN's 

SPEECH, 1774 

MEANWHILE Lord Dunmore, having gar- 
risoned the frontier forts, three of which were 
put under the orders of Daniel Boone, was 
making ready a formidable army with which to over- 
whelm the hostile Indians. It was to be raised, and to 
march, in two wings or divisions, each fifteen hundred 
strong, which were to join at the mouth of the Great 
Kanawha. One wing, the right or northernmost, was 
to be commanded by the earl in person; while the other, 
composed exclusively of frontiersmen living among the 
mountains west and southwest of the Blue Ridge, was 
entrusted to General Andrew Lewis, a stalwart back- 
woods soldier. 

While the backwoods general was mustering his 
unruly and turbulent host of skilled riflemen, the 
English earl led his own levies, some fifteen hundred 
strong, to Fort Pitt. Here he changed his plans, and 
decided not to join the other division, as he had agreed 
to do; but to entrench himself on the Scioto River, not 
far from the Indian town of Chillicothe. Thence he 

36 



^fje ^Battle of tfje <©reat llanattjjja 37 

sent out detachments that destroyed certain of the 
hostile towns. 

But Lord Dunmore's army was not destined to strike 
the decisive blow in the contest. The great Shawnee 
chief, Cornstalk, was as wary and able as he was brave. 
He had from the first opposed the war with the whites; 
but as he had been unable to prevent it, he was now 
bent on bringing it to a successful issue. He was 
greatly outnumbered; but he had at his command over 
a thousand warriors, the pick of the young men of the 
western tribes. Since his foes were divided, he deter- 
mined to strike first at the one who would least suspect 
a blow, but whose ruin, nevertheless, might involve 
that of the other. If Lewis's army could be surprised 
and overwhelmed, the fate of Lord Dunmore's would 
be merely a question of days. So without delay. Corn- 
stalk, crafty in council, mighty in battle, and swift to 
carry out what he had planned, led his long files of 
warriors to the banks of the Ohio. 

Lewis left the worst troops to garrison the small 
forts, and with his main force of eleven hundred men 
he dropped down the Kanawha, and on October 6th 
camped on Point Pleasant, the cape of land jutting out 
between the Ohio and the Kanawha. There was little 
order in the camp, and small attention was paid to 
picket and sentinel duty; the army, like a body of 
Indian warriors, relied for safety mainly upon the 
sharp-sighted watchfulness of the individual members 
and the activity of the hunting parties. Before day- 
light on the loth small parties of hunters had, as usual, 



38 aaSinnins of tfje Wit^t 

left camp to supplement with game an unsatisfactory 
allowance of beef. Two of these hunters, when some- 
what over a mile away, came upon a large party of 
Indians; when one was killed, the survivor ran back 
at full speed to give the alarm, telling those in camp 
that he had seen five acres of ground covered with 
Indians as thick as they could stand. 

Instantly the drums beat to arms, and the back- 
woodsmen started from the ground, looked to their 
flints and priming, and were ready on the moment. 
The general, thinking he had only a scouting party 
to deal with, ordered out two detachments, each with 
one hundred and fifty men, one to march up the bank 
of the Ohio, the other to keep some little distance inland. 
They went about half a mile. Then, while it was still 
dusk, the men in camp, eagerly listening, heard the 
reports of three guns, immediately succeeded by a clash 
like a peal of thunder, as hundreds of rifles rang out 
together. It was evident that the attack was serious, 
and Colonel Field was at once despatched to the front 
with two hundred men. 

He came just in time. At the first fire both of the 
scouts in front of the white line had been killed. The 
attack fell first, and with especial fury, on the first 
division, commanded by Charles Lewis, who himself 
was mortally wounded at the very outset. His men, 
who were drawn up on the high ground skirting Crooked 
Run, began to waver, and then gave way. At this 
moment, however, Colonel Field came up and restored 
the battle^ while the backwoodsmen who had been left 



IT: 



.jAAn. 




J^^.^^»l¥f#^' 






ndi ick 

/I camp 



.bar 



they t 

ams bcu i 
' m the ^v- 

d were re« ^ 

he had only 

Isaac Shelby, First Governor of Kentuckj^ik 

From a painting by Matthew H. Jouett ; nland. 

. while 

heard Liie 



t. 



ash 



the fir I of the 

The 

le first 

jio himself 

"^!s men, 

!i ■ \^r. rooked 

'^nr; ^ . \t this 

^ nnd restored 
the batt J been left 



arfje JBattle of tfje <^reat Eanatnfja 39 

in camp also hurried up to take part in the fight. Gen- 
eral Lewis at last, fully awake to the danger, hastened 
to fortify the camp by felling timber so as to form a 
breastwork running across the point from the Ohio to 
the Kanawha; and through attending to it he was 
unable to take any personal part in the battle. 

Meanwhile the frontiersmen began to push back their 
foes, led by Colonel Field. The latter himself, how- 
ever, was soon slain; he was at the time behind a great 
tree, and was shot by two Indians on his right, while 
he was trying to get a shot at another on his left, who 
was distracting his attention by mocking and jeering 
at him. The command then fell on Captain Evan 
Shelby, who turned his company over to the charge of 
his son, Isaac. The troops fought on steadily, 
undaunted by the fall of their leaders, while the Indians 
attacked with the utmost skill, caution, and bravery. 
The fight was a succession of single combats, each man 
sheltering himself behind a stump, or rock, or tree- 
trunk, the superiority of the backwoodsmen in the use 
of the rifle being ofi^set by the superiority of their foes 
in the art of hiding and of shielding themselves from 
harm. The hostile lines, though about a mile and a 
quarter in length, were so close together, being never 
more than twenty yards apart, that many of the combat- 
ants grappled in hand-to-hand fighting. The clatter 
of the rifles was incessant, while above the din could 
be heard the cries and groans of the wounded, and the 
shouts of the combatants, as each encouraged his own 
side or jeered savagely at his adversaries. The cheers 



40 Winning of tf)e TOesJt 

of the whites mingled with the appalHng war-whoops 
and yells of their foes. The Indians also called out to 
the Americans in broken English, taunting them, and 
asking them why their fifes were no longer whistling — 
for the fight was far too close to permit of any such 
music. Their headmen walked up and down behind 
their warriors, exhorting them to go in close, to shoot 
straight, and to bear themselves well in the fight; while 
throughout the action the whites opposite Cornstalk 
could hear his deep, sonorous voice as he cheered on his 
braves, and bade them "be strong, be strong." 

About noon the Indians tried to get round the flank 
of the whites, into their camp; but this movement was 
repulsed, and a party of the Americans followed up 
their advantage, and running along the banks of the 
Kanawha outflanked the enemy in turn. The Indians 
being pushed very hard now began to fall back, the 
best fighters covering the retreat, while the wounded 
were being carried off. The whites were forced to pur- 
sue with the greatest caution; for those of them who 
advanced heedlessl}^ were certain to be ambushed and 
receive a smart check. Finally, about one o'clock, the 
Indians, in their retreat, reached a very strong position, 
where the underbrush was very close and there were 
many fallen logs and steep banks. Here they stood 
resolutely at bay, and the whites did not dare attack 
them in such a stronghold. So the action came almost 
to an end; though skirmishing went on until about an 
hour before sunset. 

The Indians, having suffered too heavily to renew 



3rf)e JBattle of tfje i^reat lianahjfja 41 

the attack, under cover of darkness slipped away, and 
made a most skillful retreat, carrying all their wounded 
in safety across the Ohio. The exhausted Americans 
returned to their camp with a number of scalps, forty 
guns, and many tomahawks. 

The battle had been bloody as well as stubborn. 
The whites, though the victors, had suffered more than 
their foes, losing some seventy-five men killed and one 
hundred and forty wounded, a fifth of their whole 
number. The Indians had not lost much more than 
half as many, about forty warriors being killed out- 
right; and there was no chief of importance in that 
number. Whereas the Americans had seventeen officers 
killed or wounded, and lost in succession their second, 
third, and fourth in command. 

The battle of the Great Kanawha was an American 
victory, for it was fought solely by the backwoodsmen 
themselves. Their immense superiority over regular 
troops in such contests can be readily seen when their 
triumph on this occasion is compared with the defeats 
previously suffered by Braddock's grenadiers and 
Grant's highlanders, at the hands of the same foes. It 
was a soldiers' battle, won by hard individual fighting; 
there was no display of generalship, except on Corn- 
stalk's part. It was the most closely contested of 
any battle ever fought with the northwestern In- 
dians; and it was the only victory gained over a 
large body of them by a force but slightly supe- 
rior in numbers. Both because of the character of 
the fight itself, and because of the results that 



42 aaainnins of tjje Wit^t 

flowed from it, it is worthy of being held in especial 
remembrance. 

Lewis, leaving his sick and wounded in camp, crossed 
the Ohio, and pushed on in obedience to the orders 
received from Dunmore on the day before the battle. 
When near the earl's encampment he was informed that 
a treaty of peace was being negotiated with the Indians. 
He with difficulty restrained his men, now eager for 
more bloodshed, and finally induced them to march 
homewards, the earl riding down to them and giving his 
orders in person. 

The spirit of the Indians had been broken by their 
defeat. Their stern old chief, Cornstalk, alone re- 
mained with unshaken heart, resolute to bid defiance 
to his foes and to fight the war out to the bitter end. 
But when the council of the headmen and war-chiefs 
was called it became evident that his tribesmen would 
not fight, and even his burning eloquence could not 
goad the warriors into again trying the hazard of battle. 
They listened unmoved and in sullen silence to the 
thrilling and impassioned words with which he urged 
them to march against the Long Knives, and, killing 
their women and children, themselves die fighting to 
the last man. Finally, when he saw he could not stir 
the hearts of his hearers, he announced that he himself 
would go and make peace. At that the warriors broke 
silence, and instantly sent runners to the earl's army 
to demand a truce. 

The crestfallen Indians assented to all the terms pro- 
posed : to give up all white prisoners and stolen horses. 



arte JBattle of tfje (great lianatofja 43 

to surrender all claim to the lands south of the Ohio, 
and to give hostages as an earnest of good faith. But 
Cornstalk preserved through all the proceedings a bear- 
ing of proud defiance. He addressed the white leader 
in a tone rather that of a conqueror than of one of the 
conquered. Indeed, he himself was not conquered; 
though he felt that his tribesmen were craven, still he 
knew that his own soul feared nothing. 

But Logan remained apart in the Mingo village, 
brooding over his wrongs and the vengeance he had 
taken. His fellows answered that he was like a mad 
dog, whose bristles were still up, but that they were 
gradually falling. When he was entreated to be pres- 
ent at the meeting, he responded that he was a warrior, 
not a councillor, and would not come. At last, after 
the Mingo camp had been destroyed, he sullenly acqui- 
esced in, or at least ceased openly to oppose, the peace. 

He would not come in person to Lord Dunmore; but 
to John Gibson, who had long lived among the Indians 
and knew thoroughly both their speech and their man- 
ners, Logan was willing to talk. Taking him aside, he 
suddenly addressed him in the finest outburst of savage 
eloquence of which we have any authentic record. The 
messenger took it down in writing, and, returning to 
camp, gave it to Lord Dunmore, who then read it to the 
whole backwoods army. It ran as follows: 

"I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered 
Logan's cabin hungry and he gave him not meat; if 
ever he came cold and naked and he clothed him not? 



44 OTinning of tfje Wit&t 

During the course of the last long and bloody war, 
Logan remained idle in his camp, an advocate for peace. 
Such was my love for the whites that my countrymen 
pointed as I passed and said, 'Logan is the friend of 
the white man.' I had even thought to have lived 
with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel 
Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood and unprovoked, 
murdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing 
my women and children. There runs not a drop of my 
blood in the veins of any living creature. This called 
on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed 
many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my 
country I rejoice at the beams of peace; but do not 
harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan 
never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his 
life. Who is there to mourn for Logan .? Not one." 

The tall frontiersmen, rough Indian haters though 
they were, were so much impressed by the speech that 
in the evening it was the topic of conversation over 
their camp-fires. But they knew that Greathouse, not 
Cresap, had been the chief offender in the murder of 
Logan's family; and when they rallied Cresap as 
being so great a man that the Indians put everything 
on his shoulders, Cresap, much angered, swore that 
he had a good mind to tomahawk Greathouse for the 
murder. 

As it was evident from the speech that Logan did not 
intend to remain on the war-path, Lord Dunmore 
marched home with his hostages. Within six months 



arfte ^Battle of tfje (^reat ifeanattifja 45 

he had brought the war to a successful end with results 
of immediate as well as far-reaching importance. It 
kept the Indians of the Northwest quiet for the first 
two years of the Revolutionary struggle, and meantime 
rendered possible the settlement of Kentucky and the 
winning of the West. 

On the homeward march the officers of the army held 
a notable meeting to express their warm sympathy with 
the Continental Congress (which was then in session) 
and with their countrymen in the struggle of which the 
shadow was looming up with ever-increasing blackness. 
In a series of resolutions they set forth their devotion 
to their king, to the honor of his crown, and to the 
dignity of the British empire; but they added that this 
devotion would only last while the king deigned to rule 
over a free people; that their love for the liberty of 
America outweighed all other considerations, and that 
they would exert every power for its defence, not riot- 
ously, but when regularly called forth by the voice of 
their countrymen. They ended by tendering their 
thanks to Lord Dunmore, who was also warmly thanked 
by the Virginia Legislature, as well as by the frontiers- 
men of Fincastle County. 

Of the further history of the great chief Cornstalk 
it may here be said that some three years later he came 
into the garrison at Point Pleasant (where the camp 
was located at the time of the battle of the Great 
Kanawha) to explain that, while he was anxious to 
keep at peace, his tribe were bent on going to war; 
and he frankly added that of course if they did so he 



46 OTinning of tfje Wit^t 

should have to join them. He and three other Indians, 
among them his son and the chief Redhawk, were 
detained as hostages. While they were thus confined in 
the fort, a member of a company of rangers was killed 
by the Indians near by; whereupon his comrades, 
headed by their captain, rushed in furious anger into 
the fort to slay the hostages. Cornstalk heard them 
and knew that his hour had come; with unmoved 
countenance he exhorted his son not to fear, for it was 
the will of the Great Spirit that they should die there 
together; then, as the murderers burst into the room, 
he quietly rose to meet them, and fell dead pierced by 
seven or eight bullets. His son and his comrades were 
likewise butchered. 



CHAPTER VI 

BOONE AND THE SETTLEMENT OF KENTUCKY, 1775 

LORD DUNMORE'S war made possible the two- 
fold character of the Revolutionary war, where- 
in on the one hand the Americans won by con- 
quest and colonization new lands for their children, and 
on the other wrought out their national independence of 
the British king. Had Cornstalk and his fellow-chiefs 
kept their hosts unbroken, they would undoubtedly 
have swept Kentucky clear of settlers in 1775 — as was 
done by the mere rumor of their hostility the preceding 
summer. Their defeat gave the opportunity for Boone 
to settle Kentucky, for Robertson to settle Middle Ten- 
nessee, and for Clark to conquer Illinois and the North- 
west; it was the first in the chain of causes that gave 
us for our western frontier in 1783 the Mississippi and 
not the Alleghanies. 

A speculative North Carolinian, Henderson, had for 
some time been planning to establish a proprietary 
colony beyond the mountains, as a bold stroke to 
restore his ruined fortunes; and early in 1775, as the 
time seemed favorable, he proceeded to put his ventur- 
ous scheme into execution. For years he had been in 
close business relations with Boone; and the latter had 

47 



48 OTinnins of tjje Wit^t 

attempted to lead a band of actual settlers to Kentucky 
in 1773. 

Henderson, and those with him in his scheme of land 
speculation, began to open negotiations with the Chero- 
kees as soon as the victory of the Great Kanawha 
(October 10, 1774) lessened the danger to be appre- 
hended from the northwestern Indians; for he was 
anxious to get a good Indian title to his proposed new 
colony. When the Indian delegate appointed to 
examine Henderson's goods made a favorable report 
in January, 1775, the Overhill Cherokees were bidden 
to assemble at the Sycamore Shoals of the Watauga, 
where, on the 17th of March, Oconostota and two other 
chiefs signed the treaty in the presence and with the 
assent of some twelve hundred of their tribe; for all 
who could had come to the treaty grounds. Henderson 
thus obtained a grant of all the lands lying along and 
between the Kentucky and the Cumberland rivers, 
paying for it 10,000 pounds of lawful English money, 
mainly in merchandise. It took a number of days 
before the treaty was finally concluded; no rum was 
allowed to be sold; but herds of beeves were driven in, 
that the Indians might make a feast. 

As soon as it became evident that the Indians would 
consent to the treaty, Henderson sent Boone ahead 
with a company of thirty men to clear a trail from the 
Holston to the Kentucky — the first regular path opened 
into the wilderness, forever famous in Kentucky history 
as the Wilderness Road. 

After a fortnight's hard work the party had almost 



Fort at Boonsborough 

From a ground plan by Colonel Richard Henderson 



JBoone anb tfje Settlement of i&entucbp 49 

reached the banks of the Kentucky River, when, half 
an hour before daybreak, they were attacked by some 
Indians, who killed two of them and wounded a third; 
the others stood their ground without suffering further 
loss or damage till it grew light, when the Indians 
silently drew off. Continuing his course, Boone 
reached the Kentucky River, and on April ist began 
to build Boonsborough, on an open plain where there 
was a lick with two sulphur springs; and he at once 
sent a special messenger to hurry forward the main 
body under Henderson, writing to the latter: 

*' My advice to you, sir, is to come or send as soon as 
possible. Your company is desired greatly, for the 
people are very uneasy, but are willing to stay and 
venture their lives with you, and now is the time to 
frustrate the intentions of the Indians, and keep the 
country whilst we are in it. If we give way to them 
now, it will ever be the case." 

Henderson, having started as soon as he finished 
the treaty, was obliged to halt and leave his wagons in 
Powell's Valley, for beyond that even so skillful a road- 
maker as Boone had not been able to find or make a 
way passable for wheels. Accordingly, their goods 
and implements were placeed on pack-horses, and the 
company started again. 

The journey was hard and tiresome. At times it 
rained; and again there were heavy snowstorms. 
The mountains were very steep, and it was painfully 



50 OTinning of tfje OTesit 

laborious work to climb them while chopping out a way 
for the pack-train. At night a watch had to be kept 
for Indians. It was only here and there that the beasts 
got good grazing. Sometimes the horses had their 
saddles turned while struggling through the woods. 
But the great difficulty came in crossing the creeks, 
where the banks were rotten, the bottom bad, or the 
water deep; then the horses would get mired down and 
wet their packs, or they would have to be swum across 
while their loads were ferried over on logs. One day, 
in going along a creek, they had to cross it no less than 
fifty times, by "very bad foards." 

On the yth of April they met Boone's runner, bearing 
tidings of the loss occasioned by the Indians, and also 
found parties of would-be settlers, who, panic-stricken 
by the sudden forays, were fleeing from the country. 
Henderson's party kept on with good courage, and per- 
suaded quite a number of the fugitives to turn back 
with them. Some of these men, however, were not 
leaving the country because of fright, for many, among 
them the McAfees, had not brought out their families, 
but had simply come to clear the ground, build cabins, 
plant corn, and turn some branded cattle loose in the 
woods; and, returning to the settlements, they were 
planning to bring out their wives and children the 
following year. 

Henderson's company came into the beautiful Ken- 
tucky country in mid-April, when it looked its best, and 
reached the fort that Boone was building on the 20th 
of the month, being welcomed to its wooden walls by a 



Jioone anb tfje Settlement of Eentucfep 51 

rifle volley. They at once set to with a will to finish it. 
It was a typical forted village, such as the frontiersmen 
built everywhere in the West and Southwest during the 
years that they were pushing their way across the con- 
tinent in the teeth of fierce and harassing warfare. It 
was in shape a parallelogram, some two hundred and 
fifty feet long and half as wide. At each corner was a 
two-storied loopholed block-house to act as a bastion. 
The stout log cabins were arranged in straight lines, 
so that their outer sides formed part of the wall, the 
spaces between them being filled with a high stockade, 
made of heavy squared timbers thrust upright into the 
ground, and bound together within by a horizontal 
stringer near the top. They were loopholed like the 
block-houses. The heavy wooden gates, closed with 
stout bars, were flanked without by the block-houses 
and within by small windows cut in the nearest cabins. 
The houses had sharp, sloping roofs, made of huge 
clapboards, and these great wooden slabs were kept in 
place by long poles, bound with withes to the rafters. 
When danger threatened, the cattle were kept in the 
open space in the middle. 

Three other similar forts or stations were built about 
the same time as Boonsborough, namely: Harrods- 
town. Boiling Springs, and St. Asaphs, better known 
as Logan's Station, from its founder's name. These 
all lay to the southwest, some thirty odd miles from 
Boonsborough. Every such fort or station served as 
the rallying-place for the country round about, the 
stronghold in which the people dwelt during time of 



52 WHimm oi tfje OTesit 

danger; and later on, when all danger had long ceased, 
it often grew into the chief town of the district. This 
system enabled the inhabitants to combine for defense, 
and yet to take up the large tracts of four to fourteen 
hundred acres, to which they were by law entitled. 
Thus the settlers were scattered over large areas, and, 
as elsewhere in the Southwest, the county and not the 
town became the governmental unit. 

Henderson, having established a land agency at 
Boonsborough, at once proceeded to deed to the colo- 
nists many hundred thousand acres, the surveying of 
which fell largely to Boone, whose initials became 
familiar landmarks in the colony. With equal celerity 
he caused delegates to be elected to the legislature of 
Transylvania, as he had early named the colony, and 
began immediately to organize a government for it. 
The delegates, seventeen in all, met at Boonsborough, 
on a level plain of white clover, under an old elm, a fit 
council-house for this pioneer legislature of game hunt- 
ers and Indian fighters. 

These weather-beaten backwoods warriors, men of 
genuine force of character, behaved with a dignity and 
wisdom that would have well become any legislative 
body. After listening to a speech from Henderson in 
which he outlined the needs of the new country, they 
provided for courts, for the militia, for punishing 
criminals, fixing sheriffs' and clerks' fees, and for 
issuing writs of attachment. Boone proposed a scheme 
for game protection, which the legislature immediately 
adopted, and likewise an **act for preserving the breed 



^oone anb tfie Settlement of llentucfep 53 

of horses" — for, from the very outset, the Kentiickians 
showed the love for fine horses and for horse-racing 
which has ever since distinguished them. And it was 
Hkewise stipulated that there should be complete reli- 
gious freedom and toleration for all sects. 

Transylvania, however, was between two millstones. 
The settlers revolted against its authority, and appealed 
to Virginia ; for it was hopeless to expect that the bold 
men who conquered the wilderness would be content to 
hold it, even at a small quit-rent, from Henderson. 
Lord Dunmore denounced Henderson and his acts; 
and it was in vain that Transylvania appealed to 
the Continental Congress, asking leave to send a dele- 
gate thereto, and asserting its devotion to the American 
cause; for Jefiferson and Patrick Henry were members 
of that body, and though they agreed with Lord Dun- 
more in nothing else, were quite as determined as he 
that Kentucky should remain part of Virginia. So 
Transylvania's fitful life flickered out of existence; the 
Virginia Legislature in 1778 solemnly annulling the 
title of the company, but very properly recompensing 
the originators by the gift of two hundred thousand 
acres. North Carolina pursued a similar course; and 
Henderson, after the collapse of his colony, drifts out 
of history. 

Soon after the fort at Boonsborough was built, Boone 
went back to North Carolina for his family, and in the 
fall returned, bringing out a band of new settlers. A 
few roving hunters and daring pioneer settlers also 
came to his fort in the fall; among them, the famous 



54 Wiimm of tfje WHt^t 

scout, Simon Kenton, and John Todd, a man of high 
and noble character and well-trained mind, who after- 
wards fell by Boone's side when in command at the 
fatal battle of Blue Licks. In this year also Clark and 
Shelby first came to Kentucky. 

All this time there penetrated through the somber 
forests faint echoes of the strife the men of the sea- 
coast had just begun against the British king. The 
rumors woke to passionate loyalty the hearts of the 
pioneers ; and a roaming party of hunters, when camped 
on a branch of the Elkhorn, called the spot Lexington, 
in honor of the Massachusetts minute-men, about whose 
death and victory they had just heard. 

By the end of 1775 the Americans had gained firm 
foothold in Kentucky. 



■H<:uinlr,q ii moil 



Wit^t 



Captain Robert Patterson 

From a painting 



I of high 
ho after- 
j at the 

-, xlr a n rl 

'Tiber 



CHAPTER VII 

THE WAR IN THE NORTHWEST, 
I777-I778 

IN the fall of 1776 at Detroit great councils were held 
by all the northwestern tribes, to whom the Six 
Nations sent the white belt of peace, that they 
might cease their feuds and join against the Americans. 
The later councils were summoned by Henry Hamilton, 
the British lieutenant-governor of the northwestern 
region, whose headquarters were at Detroit. He was 
an ambitious, energetic, unscrupulous man, of bold char- 
acter, who wielded great influence over the Indians; and 
the conduct of the war in the West, as well as the entire 
management of frontier afi^airs, was entrusted to him 
by the British Government. He had been ordered to 
enlist the Indians on the British side, and have them 
ready to act against the Americans in the spring; and 
accordingly he gathered the tribes together. He him- 
self took part in the war-talks, plying the Indians with 
presents and fire-water no less than with speeches and 
promises. The headmen of the diff^erent tribes, as they 
grew excited, passed one another black, red, or bloody, 
tomahawk belts, as tokens of the vengeance to be 

55 



56 Minning of tfje OTesit 

taken on their white foes. One Delaware chief still 
held out for neutrality, announcing that if he had to 
side with either set of combatants, it would be with the 
*' buckskins," or backwoodsmen, and not with the red- 
coats; but the bulk of the warriors sympathized with 
the Half King of the Wyandots when he said that the 
Long Knives had for years interfered with the Indians* 
hunting, and that now at last it was the Indians' turn 
to threaten revenge. 

Hamilton was for the next two years the mainspring 
of Indian hostility to the Americans in the Northwest; 
and he rapidly acquired the venomous hatred of the 
backwoodsmen, who nicknamed him the "hair-buyer," 
asserting that he put a price on the scalps of Americans. 
Hamilton himself had been ordered by his immediate 
official superior to assail the borders of Pennsylvania 
and Virginia with his savages, to destroy the crops and 
buildings of the settlers who had advanced beyond the 
mountains, and to give to his Indian allies — the Hurons, 
Shawnees, and other tribes — all the land of which they 
thus took possession. With such allies as Hamilton 
had, this order was tantamount to proclaiming a war 
of extermination, waged with appalling and horrible 
cruelty against the settlers. 

All through the winter of '76-^7 the northwestern 
Indians were preparing to take up the tomahawk. 
Runners were sent through the leafless, frozen woods 
from one to another of their winter camps. In each 
bleak, frail village, each snow-hidden cluster of bark 
wigwams, the painted, half-naked warriors danced the 



STfje OTar m tfje iSortfjtDesit 57 

war-dance, and sang the war-song, beating the ground 
with their war-clubs and keeping time with their feet 
to the rhythmic chant as they moved in rings round 
the peeled post, into which they struck their hatchets. 
The hereditary sachems, the peace chiefs, could no 
longer control the young men. The braves made ready 
their weapons and battle gear; their bodies were 
painted red and black, the plumes of the war eagle 
were braided into their long scalp-locks, and some put 
on necklaces of bears' claws, and head-dresses made of 
panther skin, or of the shaggy and horned frontlet of 
the buffalo. Before the snow was off the ground the 
war parties crossed the Ohio and fell on the fron- 
tiers from the Monongahela and Kanawha to the 
Kentucky. 

Among others in the spring of 1777, the stockade at 
Wheeling was attacked by two or three hundred 
Indians; with them came a party of Rangers, recruited 
by Hamilton from the French, British, and Tories at 
Detroit. Most of the men from inside the fort were 
drawn into an ambuscade and were slain; but the 
remainder made good the defense, helped by the women, 
who ran the lead into bullets, cooled and loaded the 
guns, and even, when the rush was made, assisted to 
repel it by firing through the loopholes. After making 
a determined effort to storm the stockade, in which 
some of the boldest warriors were slain while trying in 
vain to batter down the gates with heavy timbers, the 
baffled.Indians were obliged to retire discomfited. The 
siege is chiefly memorable because of an incident con- 



58 OTinnmg of tjje Mesit 

nected with a leading man of the neighborhood, a 
Major McColloch. 

When WheeHng was invested, McColloch tried to 
break into it, riding a favorite old white horse. But 
the Indians intercepted him, and hemmed him in on 
the brink of an almost perpendicular slope, some three 
hundred feet high. McColloch had no thought of sur- 
rendering, to die by fire at the stake; so, wheeling 
short round, he spurred his steed over the brink. The 
old horse never faltered, but plunged headlong down 
the steep, bowlder-covered slope. Good luck, aided by 
the wonderful skill of the rider and the marvelous 
strength and sure-footedness of his steed, rewarded one 
of the most daring feats of horsemanship of which we 
have any authentic record. There was a crash, the 
shock of a heavy body, half springing, half falling, a 
scramble among loose rocks, and the snapping of sap- 
lings and bushes ; and in another moment the awestruck 
Indians above saw their unharmed foe galloping his gal- 
lant white horse in safety across the plain. To this day 
the place is known by the name of McColloch's Leap. 

Likewise, Boonsborough, which was held by twenty- 
two riflemen, was attacked twice, once in April and 
again in July. The first time the garrison was taken 
by surprise; the wounded included Boone himself. 
The Indians promptly withdrew when they found they 
could not carry the fort by a sudden assault. On the 
second occasion the whites were on their guard, and, 
though there were but thirteen unhurt men in the fort, 
they easily beat off the assailants, and slew half a dozen 



tlTfie Wiav in tfje iaortfjiuesit 59 

of them. This time the Indians stayed round two days, 
keeping up a heavy fire, under cover of which they 
several times tried to burn the fort. 

Early in 1778 a severe calamity befell the settlements. 
In January Boone went, with twenty-nine other men, 
to the Blue Licks to make salt for the different garri- 
sons — for hitherto this necessary of life had been 
brought in, at great trouble and expense, from the 
settlements. The following month, having sent back 
three men with loads of salt, he and all the others were 
surprised and captured by a party of eighty or ninety 
Miamis, led by two Frenchmen. When surrounded, 
so that there was no hope of escape, Boone agreed that 
all should surrender on condition of being well treated. 
The Indians on this occasion loyally kept faith. The 
two Frenchmen were anxious to improve their capture 
by attacking Boonsborough; but the savages were 
satisfied with their success, and insisted on returning to 
their villages. Boone was taken first to Chillicothe, 
the chief Shawnee town on the Little Miami, and then 
to Detroit, where Hamilton and the other Englishmen 
treated him well, and tried to ransom him for a hundred 
pounds sterling. However, the Indians had become 
very much attached to him, and refused the ransom, 
taking their prisoner back to Chillicothe. Here he 
was adopted into the tribe, and remained for two 
months, winning the good will of the Shawnees by his 
cheerfulness and his skill as a hunter, being careful not 
to rouse their jealousy by any too great display of skill 
at the shooting-matches. 



60 OTinning of tfje OTesit 

Hamilton kept urging the Indians to repeat their 
ravages of the preceding year, so they determined 
forthwith to fall on the frontier in force. By their war 
parties, and the accompanying bands of Tories, Hamil- 
ton sent placards to be distributed among the frontiers- 
men, endeavoring both by threat and by promise of 
reward to make them desert the patriot cause. 

In June a large war party gathered at Chillicothe to 
march against Boonsborough, and Boone determined 
to escape at all hazards, so that he might warn his 
friends. One morning before sunrise he eluded the 
vigilance of his Indian companions and started through 
the woods for his home, where he arrived in four days, 
having had but one meal during the whole journey of a 
hundred and sixty miles. * 

On reaching Boonsborough he at once set about put- 
ting the fort in good condition. His escape had 
probably disconcerted the Indian war party, for no im- 
mediate attack was made on the fort. After waiting un- 
til August he got tired of inaction, and made a foray 
into the Indian country himself with nineteen men, 
defeating a small party of his foes on the Scioto. At the 
same time he learned that the main body of the Miamis 
had at last marched against Boonsborough. Instantly 
he retraced his steps with all possible speed, passed by 
the Indians, and reached the threatened fort a day 
before they did. 

On the eighth day of the month the savages appeared 
before the stockade. They were between three and 
four hundred in number, Shawnees and Miamis, and 



i:f)e OTar in tfje jaortfjiuesit 6i 

were led by Captain Daignlau de Quindre, a noted 
Detroit partisan; with him were eleven other French- 
men, besides the Indian chiefs. They marched into 
view with British and French colors flying, and for- 
mally summoned the little wooden fort to surrender in 
the name of His Britannic Majesty. Boone first got a 
respite of two days to consider De Quindre's request, 
and occupied the time in getting the horses and cattle 
into the fort. At the end of the two days the French- 
man came in person to the walls to hear the answer 
to his proposition; whereupon Boone, thanking him 
in the name of the defenders for having given them 
time to prepare for defense, told him that now they 
laughed at his attack. De Quindre, mortified at being 
outwitted, set a trap in his turn for Boone. He assured 
the latter that his orders from Detroit were to capture, 
not to destroy, the garrison, and proposed that nine of 
their number should come out and hold a treaty. The 
terms of the treaty are not mentioned ; apparently it 
was to be one of neutrality, Boonsborough acting on its 
own account, and De Quindre agreeing to march his 
forces peaceably off when it was concluded. 

Boone accepted the proposition, but insisted upon the 
conference being held within sixty yards of the fort. 
After the treaty was concluded, the Indians proposed 
to shake hands with the nine treaty-makers, and 
promptly grappled them; but the borderers wrested 
themselves free and fled to the fort under a heavy fire. 

The Indians then attacked the fort, surrounding it 
on every side and keeping up a constant fire. The 



62 OTmning of tfje Wit^t 

whites replied in kind, but the combatants were so well 
covered that little damage was done. At night the 
Indians pitched torches of cane and hickory bark 
against the stockade, in the vain effort to set it on fire, 
and De Quindre tried to undermine the walls, starting 
from the water-mark. But Boone discovered the 
attempt and sunk a trench as a countermine. Then De 
Quindre gave up and retreated on August 20th, after 
nine aays' fighting, in which the whites had but two 
killed and four wounded ; nor was the loss of the Indi- 
ans much heavier. This was the last siege of Boons 
borough. 

The savages continued to annoy the border through- 
out the year 1778. The extent of their ravages can be 
seen from the fact that during the summer months 
those around Detroit alone brought in to Hamilton 
eighty-one scalps and thirty-four prisoners, seventeen 
of whom they surrendered to the British, keeping the 
others either to make them slaves or else to put them 
to death with torture. 

Boone, on the other hand, roamed restlessly over the 
country, spying out and harrying the Indian war par- 
ties, and making it his business to meet the incoming 
bands of settlers and to protect and guide them on the 
way to their intended homes. When not on other duty, 
he hunted steadily, and met with many adventures, 
still handed down by tradition. 

One band of painted marauders carried off Boone's 
daughter. She was in a canoe with two other girls on 
the river near Boonsborough when they were pounced 



John Floyd 

From a crayon sketch 



o well 

It the 

..y bark 

t on fire, 

^.rting 

•he 



lonths 



oming 
on the 
n other duty 
i ventures. 



ed 



arfje OTar m tfje iSortfjlues^t 63 

on by five Indians. The two younger girls gave way 
to despair when captured; but Betsey Callaway was 
sure they would be followed and rescued. To mark 
the line of their flight she broke off twigs from the 
bushes, and when threatened with the tomahawk for 
doing this, she tore off strips from her dress. The 
Indians carefully covered their trail, compelling the girls 
to walk apart, as their captors did, in the thick cane, 
and to wade up and down the little brooks. 

Boone started in pursuit the same evening. All next 
day he followed the tangled trail like a bloodhound, 
and early the following morning came on the Indians, 
camped by a buffalo calf which they had just killed and 
were about to cook. The rescue was managed very 
adroitly; for had any warning been given, the Indians 
would have instantly killed their captives, according 
to their invariable custom. Boone and his companion, 
Floyd, each shot one of the savages, and the remaining 
three escaped almost naked, without gun, tomahawk, 
or scalping-knife. The girls were unharmed; for the 
Indians rarely molested their captives on the journey 
to the home towns, unless their strength gave out, 
when they were tomahawked without mercy. 

Much the greatest loss, both to Indians and whites, 
was caused by this unending, personal warfare. Every 
hunter, almost every settler, was always in imminent 
danger of Indian attack, and in return was ever ready, 
either alone or with one or two companions, to make 
excursions against the tribes for scalps and horses. 
One or two of Simon Kenton's experiences during this 



64 Minnins of tfje OTiesit 

year may be mentioned less for their own sake than 
as examples of innumerable similar deeds that were 
done. 

Kenton was a man of wonderful strength and agility, 
famous as a runner and wrestler, an unerring shot, and 
a perfect woodsman. Like so many of these early 
Indian fighters, he was not at all bloodthirsty; in fact, it 
was hard to rouse him to wrath. When aroused, how- 
ever, few could stand before the terrible fury of his 
anger. Once, in a fight outside the stockade at Boons- 
borough, he saved the life of Boone by shooting an 
Indian who was on the point of tomahawking him, and 
won praise and admiration from him who was as little 
likely to praise the deeds of others as he was to mention 
his own. 

Kenton, on the expedition to the Scioto, pushing 
ahead of the rest, was attracted by the sound of laugh- 
ter in a cane-brake. Hiding himself, he soon saw two 
Indians riding along on one small pony and chatting 
and laughing together in great good humor. Aiming 
carefully, he brought down both at once, one dead and 
the other severely wounded. As he rushed up to finish 
his work, his quick ears caught a rustle in the cane, 
and looking around he saw two more Indians aiming 
at him. A rapid spring to one side made both balls 
miss. Other Indians came up; but, at the same time, 
Boone and his companions appeared; and a brisk 
skirmish followed. When Boone returned home, Ken- 
ton with another stayed behind and later brought back 
in triumph four good horses. 



^jje Wiav in tjje jSortfjttiESit 65 

Much pleased with his success, he shortly made 
another raid into the Indian country with two compan- 
ions, this time driving off one hundred and sixty horses, 
which were brought in safety to the banks of the Ohio. 
But the river was so rough that the horses, as soon as 
they were beyond their depth, would turn round and 
swim back. The reckless adventurers, unwilling to 
leave the booty, stayed so long, waiting for a lull in the 
gale, that they were overtaken by the Indians, and, as 
their guns had become wet and useless, one of them 
was killed, another escaped, and Kenton himself was 
captured. When the Indians asked him if ** Captain 
Boone" had sent him to steal horses, and he answered 
frankly that the stealing was his own idea, they beat 
him lustily with their ramrods, at the same time 
showering on him epithets that showed they had at 
least learned the profanity of the traders. At night 
they staked him out tied so that he could move neither 
hand nor foot; and during the day he was bound on 
an unbroken horse, with his hands tied behind him so 
that he could not protect his face from the trees and 
bushes. After three days he reached the town of 
Chillicothe, stiff, sore, and bleeding. 

Next morning he was led out to run the gauntlet of 
a row of men, women, and boys, each with a tomahawk, 
switch, or club. When the moment for starting arrived, 
the big drum was beaten, and Kenton sprang forward 
in the race. Keeping his wits about him, he suddenly 
turned to one side, and, dodging those who got in his 
way, by a sudden double he rushed through an opening 



66 aaainnins of tjje OTesit 

in the crowd, and reached the council-house, which 
protected him for the time being. 

He was not further molested that evening. Next 
morning a council was held to decide whether he 
should be immediately burned at the stake, or should 
first be led round to the different villages. The warriors 
sat in a ring, passing the war-club from one to another; 
those who passed it in silence thereby voted in favor of 
sparing the prisoner for the moment, while those who 
struck it violently on the ground thus indicated their 
belief that he should be immediately put to death. The 
former prevailed, and Kenton was led from town to 
town to be switched and beaten by the women and 
boys, or forced to run the gauntlet, while sand was 
thrown in his eyes and guns loaded with powder fired 
against his body to burn his flesh. Once, while on the 
march, he made a bold rush for liberty, breaking out of 
the line and running into the forest; but by ill luck, 
when almost exhausted, he came against another party 
of Indians. 

After this he was often terribly abused by his cap- 
tors; once his shoulder was cut open with an axe; 
at another time his face was painted black, the death 
color; and he was twice sentenced to be burned alive. 
But each time he was saved at the last moment, once 
through the renegade Girty, his old companion in arms 
at the time of Lord Dunmore's war, and again by the 
great Mingo chief, Logan. At last, after having run 
the gauntlet eight times and been thrice tied to the 
stake, he was ransomed by some traders who hoped to 



arfje WBav in tfie iSortf)ttjefi(t 67 

get valuable information from him about the border 
forts, and took him to Detroit. Here he stayed until 
his battered, wounded body was healed. Then he 
determined to escape, and formed his plan in concert 
with two other Kentuckians, who had been in Boone's 
party that was captured at the Blue Licks. They 
managed to secure some guns, got safely off, and came 
straight down through the great forests to the Ohio, 
reaching their homes in safety. 



CHAPTER VIII 
Clark's conquest of the Illinois, 1778 

KENTUCKY had been settled, chiefly through 
Boone's instrumentality, in the year that saw 
the first fighting of the Revolution, and it had 
been held ever since, Boone still playing the greatest 
part in the defense. There had developed by the side 
of Boone in this school of the Wilderness a brilliant 
young Virginian named George Rogers Clark. He was 
of good family, well-educated, and, being fond of a wild, 
roving life, he followed the profession of a backwoods 
surveyor. His adventurous spirit early brought him to 
Kentucky, where he quickly became a leader among the 
daring hunters of the border. He took part in Lord 
Dunmore's war; and later he was instrumental in mak- 
ing Kentucky a county of Virginia (1776). Residing at 
Harrodsburg, Clark took part in the defense of Ken- 
tucky in the petty warfare of the years ^jG-'y^] but 
his farseeing and ambitious soul now prompted him to 
use Kentucky as a base from which to conquer the vast 
region northwest of the Ohio. 

The country beyond the Ohio was not, like Ken- 
tucky, a tenantless and debatable hunting-ground. It 
was the seat of powerful and warlike Indian confeder- 

68 



Clark's! Conquest of tfje Sllinois!, 1778 69 

acies, and of clusters of ancient French hamlets which 
had been founded generations before the Kentucky 
pioneers were born; and it also contained posts that 
were garrisoned and held by the soldiers of the British 
king. 

In 1777 Clark sent two young hunters as spies to the 
Illinois country and to the neighborhood of Vincennes, 
though neither to them nor to any one else did he 
breathe a hint of the plan that was in his mind. They 
brought back word that, though some of the adventur- 
ous young men often joined either the British or the 
Indian war parties, yet that the bulk of the French 
population took but little interest in the struggle, were 
lukewarm, in their allegiance to the British flag, and 
were somewhat awed by what they had heard of the 
backwoodsmen. Clark judged from this report that it 
would not be difficult to keep the French neutral if a 
bold policy, strong as well as conciliatory, were pursued 
towards them; and that but a small force would be 
needed to enable a resolute and capable leader to con- 
quer at least the southern part of the country. But it 
was impossible to raise such a body among the scantily 
garrisoned forted villages of Kentucky; for the pio- 
neers, though warlike and fond of fighting, were prima- 
rily settlers; their soldiering came in as a secondary 
occupation. 

So Clark, in October, 1777, journeyed back to the 
eastern counties of Virginia, realizing that he must 
look there for help. After a week's rest from his long 
ride he laid his plans before Patrick Henry, then gov- 



70 »mnmg of tfje Wit^t 

ernor of the State, and urged their adoption with fiery 
enthusiasm. The matter could not be laid before the 
Assembly, nor made public in any way; for the hazard 
would be increased tenfold if the strictest secrecy were 
not preserved. Finally Henry authorized Clark to 
raise seven companies, each of fifty men, who were to 
act as militia and to be paid as such. He also advanced 
him the sum of twelve hundred pounds, and gave him an 
order on the authorities at Pittsburg for boats, supplies, 
and ammunition; while three of the most prominent 
Virginia gentlemen agreed in writing to do their best 
to induce the Virginia Legislature to grant to each of the 
adventurers three hundred acres of the conquered land, 
if they were successful. He was likewise given the 
commission of colonel, with instructions to raise his men 
solely from the frontier counties west of the Blue Ridge, 
so as not to weaken the people of the seacoast region 
in their struggle against the British. 

Governor Henry's open letter of instructions merely 
ordered Clark to go to the relief of Kentucky. He car- 
ried with him also the secret letter which bade him 
attack the Illinois regions; for he had decided to assail 
this first, because, if defeated, he would then be able 
to take refuge in the Spanish dominions beyond the 
Mississippi. He met with the utmost difficulty in rais- 
ing men; for, aside from accidental causes and the 
jealousy between Virginians and Pennsylvanians, many 
people were strongly opposed to sending any men to 
Kentucky at all, deeming the drain on their strength 
more serious than the value of the new land warranted. 



Clarfe*£( Conquesit of tfje 3Uinois(, 1 778 71 

But Clark never for a moment wavered or lost sight 
of his main object, and at last got together four small 
companies of frontiersmen. In May, 1778, he left the 
Redstone settlements, taking not only his troops — one 
hundred and fifty in all — but also a considerable num- 
ber of private adventurers and settlers with their fami- 
lies. He touched at Pittsburg and Wheeling to get his 
stores. Then the flotilla of clumsy flatboats rowed 
and drifted cautiously down the Ohio between the 
melancholy and unbroken reaches of Indian-haunted 
forest, until it reached the falls, where the river broke 
into great rapids of swift water. This spot he chose, 
both because from it he could threaten and hold in 
check the different Indian tribes, and because he 
deemed it wise to have some fort to protect in the 
future the craft that might engage in the river trade, 
when they stopped to prepare for the passage of the 
rapids. The few families still remaining with the 
expedition settled here on an island, and in the autumn 
moved to the mainland, where afterwards Louisville 
grew up, named in honor of the French king, who was 
then our ally. 

Here Clark received news of the alliance with France, 
which he hoped would render easier his task of win- 
ning over the inhabitants of the Illinois. He now dis- 
closed to his men the real object of his expedition. 
The Kentuckians and those who had come down the 
river with him hailed the adventure with eager enthu- 
siasm, pledged him their hearty support, and followed 
him with staunch and unflinching loyalty. But the 



1^ aaiinning of tfje OTiesit 

Holston recruits, who had not come under his personal 
influence, had not reckoned on an expedition so long 
and so dangerous, and in the night most of them left 
the camp and fled into the woods. 

When the horsemen who pursued the deserters came 
back, a day of mirth and rejoicing was spent; and then, 
on the 24th of June, Clark's boats, putting out from 
shore, shot the falls at the very moment that there was 
an eclipse of the sun, at which the frontiersmen won- 
dered greatly, but for the most part held it to be a good 
omen. Clark double-manned his oars and rowed night 
and day until he reached a small island off the mouth 
of the Tennessee, where he halted to make his final 
preparations, and there fortunately met a little party 
of American hunters, who had recently been in the 
French settlements. They told him that the royal 
commandant was a Frenchman, Rocheblave, whose 
headquarters were at the town of Kaskaskia; that the 
fort was in good repair, the militia were well-drilled 
and in constant readiness to repel attack, while spies 
were continually watching the Mississippi, and the 
Indians and the coureurs des hois were warned to be on 
the lookout for any American force.- If the party were 
discovered, the French, having the advantage in num- 
bers and in the strength of their works, would undoubt- 
edly repel them, having been taught to hate and dread 
the backwoodsmen as more brutal and terrible than In- 
dians. But they thought that a surprise would enable 
Clark to do as he wished, and they undertook to guide 
him by the quickest and shortest route to the towns. 



Clark's! Conquest of tfje SUinois;, 1778 73 

Setting out with their new aUies, the Httle body of 
less than two hundred men started north across the 
wilderness; and on the fourth of July reached the river 
Kaskaskia, within three miles of the town, which lay 
on the farther bank. They kept in the woods until 
after it grew dusk, and then marched silently to a little 
farm a mile from the town, taking the family prisoners. 
From them Clark learned that some days before the 
townspeople had been alarmed at the rumor of a possi- 
ble attack, but that their suspicions had been lulled; 
and that Rocheblave, the Creole commandant, was sin- 
cerely attached to the British interest, and had under 
his orders two or three times as many men as Clark. 

Getting boats, the American leader ferried his men 
across the stream under cover of the darkness, and, 
approaching Kaskaskia, he divided his force into two 
divisions, one being spread out to surround the town, 
while he himself led the other up to the walls of the 
fort. 

Inside the fort the lights were lit, and through the 
windows came the sounds of violins. The officers of 
the post had given a ball, and the mirth-loving Creoles, 
young men and girls, were dancing and reveling 
within, and the sentinels had left their posts. One 
of his captives showed Clark a postern-gate by the river 
side, and through this he entered the fort, having 
placed his men round about the entrance. Advancing 
to the great hall where the revel was held, he leaned 
silently with folded arms against the doorpost, look- 
ing at the dancers. An Indian, lying on the floor of 



74 OTinning of tlje OTefit 

the entry, gazed intently on the stranger's face as the 
light from the torches within flickered across it, and 
suddenly sprang to his feet uttering the unearthly war- 
whoop. Instantly the dancing ceased; the women 
screamed, while the men ran towards the door. But 
Clark, standing unmoved and with unchanged face, 
grimly bade them continue their dancing, but to re- 
member that they now danced under Virginia and not 
Great Britain. At the same time his men burst into 
the fort and seized the French officers. 

Immediately Clark had every street secured, and sent 
runners through the town ordering the people to keep 
close to their houses on pain of death; and by daylight 
he had them all disarmed. The backwoodsmen patrol- 
led the town in little squads; while the French in 
silent terror cowered within their low-roofed houses. 
Clark was quite willing that they should fear the worst; 
and their panic was very great. 

Next morning a deputation of the chief men waited 
upon Clark; and thinking themselves in the hands of 
mere brutal barbarians, all they dared to do was to beg 
for their lives, which they did, says Clark, "with the 
greatest servancy [saying] they were willing to be 
slaves to save their families," though the bolder spirits 
could not refrain from cursing their fortune that they 
had not been warned in time to defend themselves. 
Clark knew it was hopeless to expect his little band 
permanently to hold down a much more numerous 
hostile population that was closely allied to many sur- 
rounding tribes of warlike Indians; he wished above 



Clarfe'ss Conquest of tfje Sllinois;, 1778 75 

all things to convert the inhabitants into ardent adhe- 
rents of the American Government. So he explained 
at length that, though the Americans came as con- 
querors, yet it was ever their principle to free, not to 
enslave the people with whom they came in contact. 
If the French chose to become loyal citizens and to 
take the oath of fidelity to the Republic, they should 
be welcomed to all the privileges of Americans ; those 
who did not so choose should be allowed to depart in 
peace with their families. 

The listeners passed rapidly from the depth of despair 
to the height of joy; while the crowning touch to their 
happiness was given when Clark, in answer to a ques- 
tion as to whether the Catholic church could be opened, 
said that an American commander had nothing to do 
with any church save to defend it from insult, and that 
by the laws of the Republic his religion had as great 
privileges as any other. The priest, a man of ability 
and influence, became thenceforth a devoted and eff^ec- 
tive champion of the American cause. The only person 
whom Clark treated harshly was M. Rocheblave, the 
commandant, who, when asked to dinner, responded in 
very insulting terms. Thereupon Clark promptly sent 
him as a prisoner to Virginia, and sold his slaves for 
five hundred pounds, a sum which was distributed 
among the troops as prize-money. 

A small detachment of the Americans, accompanied 
by a volunteer company of French militia, at once 
marched rapidly on Cahokia. The account of what 
had happened in Kaskaskia, the news of the alliance 



76 aaiinmng of tfie WHtsA 

between France and America, and the enthusiastic 
advocacy of Clark's new friends, soon converted Caho- 
kia; and all its inhabitants, like those of Kaskaskia, took 
the oath of allegiance to America. Almost at the same 
time the priest, Gibault, volunteered to go, with a few 
of his compatriots, to Vincennes, and there endeavor to 
get the people to join the Americans, as being their 
natural friends and allies. He started on his mission 
at once, and on the first of August returned to Clark 
with the news that he had been completely successful, 
that the entire population, after having gathered in the 
church to hear him, had taken the oath of allegiance, 
and that the American flag floated over their fort. No 
garrison could be spared to go to Vincennes; so one of 
the captains was sent thither alone to take command. 
Clark now found himself in a position of the utmost 
difficulty. With a handful of backwoodsmen, imper- 
fectly disciplined, he had to protect and govern a region 
as large as a European kingdom; he had to keep con- 
tent and loyal a population alien in race, creed, and 
language, while he held his own against the British 
and against the numerous tribes of Indians. He was 
hundreds of miles from the nearest post containing any 
American troops; he was still farther from the seat of 
government. Indeed, Clark himself had not at first 
appreciated all the dangers as well as possibilities that 
lay within his conquest ; but he was fully alive to them 
now and saw that, provided he could hold on to it, he 
had added a vast and fertile territory to the domain of 
the Union. 



Clark's; €omut^t of tfie 3Uinois;, 1 77S 



// 



The time of service of his troops had expired, and 
they were anxious to go home. By presents and prom- 
ises he managed to reenlist one hundred of them for 
eight months longer, and then, finding that many of 
the more adventurous young natives were anxious to 
take service, he enlisted enough of them to fill up all 
four companies to their original strength. His whole 
leisure was spent in drilling the men, Americans and 
French alike, and in a short time he turned them into 
as orderly and well-disciplined a body as could be found 
in any garrison of regulars. 

He also established very friendly relations with the 
Spanish captains of the scattered villages across the 
Mississippi; for the Spaniards were very hostile to 
the British, and had not yet begun to realize that they 
had even more to dread from the Americans. 

Clark took upon himself the greater task of dealing 
with a huge horde of savages, representing every tribe 
between the Great Lakes and the Mississippi, who had 
come to the Illinois, some from a distance of five hun- 
dred miles, to learn accurately all that had happened 
and to hear for themselves what the Long Knives had 
to say. He met them at Cahokia, chiefs and warriors 
of every grade, dark-browed, sullen-looking savages, 
grotesque in look and terrible in possibility. But for- 
tunately Clark understood their natures, and was 
always on his guard. 

For the first two or three days no conclusion was 
reached, though there was plenty of speech-making. But 
on the night of the third a party of turbulent warriors 



78 aaiinning of tfje OTesit 

endeavored to force their way into the house where he 
was lodging and to carry him off. Clark, being "under 
some apprehension among such a number of Devils,'* 
was anticipating treachery, and promptly seized the 
savages; while the townspeople took the alarm and were 
quickly under arms, thus convincing the Indians that 
their friendship for the Americans was not feigned. 

Clark instantly put the captives, both chiefs and 
warriors, in irons. He had treated the Indians well, 
but he knew that any sign of timidity would be fatal. 
The crestfallen prisoners humbly protested that they 
were only trying to find out if the French were really 
friendly to Clark, and begged that they might be 
released. He with haughty indifference refused to 
release them, even when the chiefs of the other tribes 
came up to intercede. He continued wholly unmoved, 
and did not even shift his lodgings to the fort, remain- 
ing in a house in the town; but he kept the guard 
ready for instant action. To make his show of indiffer- 
ence complete, he " assembled a Number of Gentlemen 
and Ladies and danced nearly the whole Night." 

Next morning he summoned all the tribes to a grand 
council, releasing the captive chiefs . that he might 
speak to them in the presence of their friends and 
allies. The preliminary ceremonies were carefully 
executed in accordance with the rigid Indian etiquette. 
Then Clark, standing up in the midst of the rings of 
squatted warriors, with his riflemen clustered behind 
him, produced the bloody war-belt of wampum, and 
handed it to the chiefs whom he had taken captive, 



Clark's; Conques^t of tfje Sllinois;, 1778 79 

telling the assembled tribes that he scorned alike their 
treachery and their hostility; that he would be thor- 
oughly justified in putting them to death, but that 
instead he would have them escorted safely from the 
town, and after three days would begin war upon them. 
He warned them that, if they did not wish their own 
women and children massacred, they must stop killing 
those of the Americans. Pointing to the war-belt, he 
challenged them, on behalf of his people, to see which 
would make it the most bloody; and he finished by 
telling them that while they stayed in his camp they 
should be given food and strong drink, but that now 
he had ended his talk to them and he wished them 
speedily to depart. 

Not only the prisoners, but all the other chiefs in 
turn forthwith rose, and in language of dignified sub- 
mission protested their regret at having been led astray 
by the British, and their determination thenceforth to 
be friendly with the Americans. 

In response Clark again told them that he came not 
as a counselor but as a warrior, not begging for a truce 
but carrying in his right hand peace and in his left 
hand war; save only that to a few of their worst men 
he intended to grant no terms whatever. To those 
who were friendly he, too, would be a friend, but if 
they chose war, he would call from the Thirteen Coun- 
cil Fires warriors so numerous that they would darken 
the land, and from that time on the red people would 
hear no sound but that of the birds that lived on blood. 
He went on to tell them that there had been a mist 



80 OTinning of tfje Wit^t 

before their eyes, but he would clear away the cloud and 
would show them the right of the quarrel between the 
Long Knives and the king who dwelt across the great 
sea; and then he told them about the revolt in terms 
which would almost have applied to a rising of Hurons 
or Wyandots against the Iroquois. At the end of his 
speech he offered them the two belts of peace and war. 

They eagerly took the peace belt, but he declined to 
smoke the calumet, and told them he would not enter 
into the solemn ceremonies of the peace treaty with 
them until the following day. He likewise declined to 
release all his prisoners, and insisted that two of them 
should be put to death. They even yielded to this, and 
surrendered to him two young men, who advanced and 
sat down before him on the floor, covering their heads 
with their blankets, to receive the tomahawk. Then 
he granted them full peace, forgave the young men, 
and the next day, after the peace council, held a feast. 
The friendship of the Indians was won. Clark ever 
after had great influence over them; they admired his 
personal prowess, his oratory, his address as a treaty- 
maker, and the skill with which he led his troops. 

After this treaty there was peace in the Illinois coun- 
try; the Indians remained for some time friendly, and 
the French were kept well satisfied. 



CHAPTER IX 

CLARK*S CAMPAIGN AGAINST VINCENNES, I779 

HAMILTON, at Detroit, had been so encouraged 
by the successes of his earlier war parties that, 
in 1778, he began to plan an attack on Fort 
Pitt; but his plans were forestalled by Clark's move- 
ments, and he abandoned them when the astounding 
news reached him that the rebels had themselves 
invaded the Illinois country, captured the British com- 
mandant Rocheblave, and that Vincennes likewise was 
in the hands of the Americans. 

He was a man of great energy, and immediately 
began to prepare an expedition for the reconquest of 
the country. While emissaries were sent to the Wabash 
to stir up the Indians against the Americans, every 
soul in Detroit was busy from morning till night in 
mending boats, baking biscuit, packing provisions in 
kegs and bags, preparing artillery stores, and in every 
way making ready for the expedition. Cattle and 
wheels were sent ahead to the most important portages 
on the route; a six-pounder gun was also forwarded. 
Feasts were held with the Indians, at which oxen were 
roasted whole, while Hamilton and the chiefs of the 
French Rangers sang the war-song in solemn council 



82 Wiimm of tfje WHt^t 

and received pledges of armed assistance and support 
from the savages. 

On October 7th the expedition, one hundred and 
seventy-seven strong, left Detroit under the personal 
command of Hamilton himself, who was joined by so 
many bands of Indians on the route that when he 
reached Vincennes his entire force amounted to five 
hundred men. 

Hamilton led his forces across Lake Erie, up the 
Maumee, and by a nine-mile carry reached one of the 
sources of the Wabash. But it proved as difficult to 
go down the Wabash as to get up the Maumee. The 
water was shallow, and once or twice dykes had to be 
built that the boats might be floated across. Frost set 
in heavily, and the ice cut the men as they worked in 
the water to haul the boats over shoals or rocks. More- 
over, at every Indian village it was necessary to stop, 
hold a conference, and give presents. At last the 
Wea village was reached, where the Wabash chiefs, 
who had made peace with the Americans, promptly 
tendered their allegiance to the British, and handed 
over a lieutenant and three men of the Vincennes 
militia, who had been sent out by Captain Leonard 
Helm, then commandant at Vincennes, on a scouting 
expedition. 

From this village an advance guard, under Major 
Hay, was sent forward to take possession of Vincennes, 
but Helm showed so good a front that nothing was 
attempted until the next day, the 17th of December, 
when Hamilton came up with his whole force and 



Clark's; Campaign ^gainsit Vintmnti, 1 779 ^3 

entered the town. Poor Helm had been promptly- 
deserted by all the Creole militia; for, loud as had been 
their boasts, at sight of the redcoats they slipped away 
to the British to surrender their arms. Finally, left 
with only two Americans, he was obliged to surrender, 
with no terms granted save that he and his associates 
should be treated with humanity. 

The French inhabitants had shown pretty clearly 
that they did not take a keen interest in the struggle 
on either side. They were now summoned to the 
church and offered the chance — ^which they for the most 
part eagerly embraced — of purging themselves of their 
past misconduct by taking a most humiliating oath of 
repentance. To keep them in good order Hamilton 
confiscated all their spirituous liquors, and in a rather 
amusing burst of Puritan feeling destroyed two billard 
tables, which he announced were "sources of immo- 
rality and dissipation in such a settlement." 

It had been Hamilton's original plan to proceed 
immediately against Clark at Kaskaskia and complete 
the reconquest of the Illinois country. He had five 
hundred men and Clark but little over one hundred. 
He was not only far nearer his base of supplies and rein- 
forcements at Detroit, than Clark was to his at Fort 
Pitt, but he was also actually across Clark's line of 
communications. But the way was long and the coun- 
try flooded, and he feared the journey might occupy so 
much time that his stock of provisions would be 
exhausted. So having decided to suspend active opera- 
tions during the cold weather, he allowed the Indians 



84 OTiinning of tfte OTesit 

to scatter back to their villages, and sent most of the 
Detroit militia home, retaining in garrison eighty or 
ninety whites, and a probably larger number of red 
auxiliaries. Meanwhile Hamilton planned a formid- 
able campaign for the spring, taking measures to rouse 
the Indians in the south as well as in the north. He 
himself was to be joined by reinforcements from Detroit 
while the Indians were to gather round him as soon as 
the winter broke. He rightly judged that with this 
force of quite a thousand men he could not only recon- 
quer the Illinois, but also sweep Kentucky, where the 
outnumbered riflemen could not meet him in the field, 
nor the wooden forts have withstood his artillery. 

When the news of the loss of Vincennes reached the 
Illinois towns, and especially when there followed a 
rumor that Hamilton himself was on his march thither 
to attack them, the panic became tremendous among 
the French. They frankly announced that though 
they much preferred the Americans, yet it would be 
folly to oppose armed resistance to the British; and 
one or two of their number were found to be in com- 
munication with Hamilton and the Detroit authorities. 

In the midst of Clark's doubt and uncertainty, Fran- 
cis Vigo, a trader in St. Louis, crossed thence to Kas- 
kaskia, on being released from prison at Vincennes, 
and told Clark that Hamilton had at the time only 
eighty men in garrison, with three pieces of cannon 
and some swivels mounted, but that as soon as the 
winter broke, he intended to gather a very large force 
and take the ofi^ensive. 



Clark's! Campaign agains(t Vinttnm^, 1779 85 

Clark instantly decided to forestall his foe, and to 
make the attack himself, heedless of the almost impass- 
able nature of the ground and of the icy severity of 
the weather. He first equipped a row-galley with two 
four-pounders and four swivels, and sent her off with a 
crew of forty men, having named her the Willing. 
She was to patrol the Ohio, and then to station herself 
in the Wabash so as to stop all boats from descending it. 

Then he hastily drew together his little garrisons of 
backwoodsmen from the French towns, and prepared 
for the march overland against Vincennes. His bold 
front and confident bearing, and the prompt decision 
of his measures, had once more restored confidence 
among the French, and he was especially helped by 
the Creole girls, whose enthusiasm for the expedition 
roused many of the daring young men to volunteer 
under Clark^s banner. By these means he gathered 
together a band of one hundred and seventy men, at 
whose head he marched out of Kaskaskia on the 7th of 
February. All the inhabitants escorted them out of 
the village, and the Jesuit priest, Gibault, gave them 
absolution at parting. 

The route by which they had to go was two hundred 
and forty miles in length. The weather had grown 
mild, so that there was no suffering from cold; but in 
the thaw the ice on the rivers melted, great freshets 
followed, and all the lowlands and meadows were 
flooded. They had no tents; but at nightfall they 
kindled huge camp-fires, and spent the evenings mer- 
rily round the piles of blazing logs, in hunter fashion, 



86 aRHinning of tfje OTlesit 

feasting on bear's ham and buffalo hump, elk saddle, 
venison haunch, and the breast of the wild turkey, 
some singing of love and the chase and war, and others 
dancing after the manner of the French trappers and 
wood-runners. Thus they kept on, marching hard and 
in good spirits until after a week they came to the two 
branches of the Little Wabash. Their channels were 
a league apart, but the flood was so high that they now 
made one great river five miles in width, the overflow 
of water being three feet deep in the shallowest part of 
the plains between and alongside them. 

Clark, having built a pirogue and crossed the first 
channel, put up a scaffold on the first edge of the 
flooded plain. When he had ferried his men over, 
and brought the baggage across and had placed it on 
the scaffold, he swam the pack-horses over. Then he 
loaded the pack-horses as they stood belly-deep in the 
water beside the scaffold, and marched his men on 
through the water until they came to the second chan- 
nel, which was crossed as the first had been. The 
floods had driven the game all away; so that they soon 
began to feel hunger, while their progress was very 
slow, and they suffered much from the fatigue of 
traveling all day long through deep mud or breast- 
high water. 

On the 17th they reached the Embarras River, but 
could not cross, nor could they find a dry spot on 
which to camp; but on a small, almost submerged hil- 
lock, they huddled through the night. At daybreak 
they heard Hamilton's morning gun from the fort, that 



^23rn9hliW edi m :t9jjpnB8[ A 

rfoTiidO ■ aiwBib £ moil 



, elk saddle. 



A Banquet in the Wilderness 

From a drawing by F. S. Church 



and 



33 ver 



d or by 
ver, but 



-i. iaa \ 
f fort 



Clarfe's( Campaisn ^gainsit Vinttmt^, 1 779 87 

was but three leagues distant; and as they could not 
find a ford across the Embarras, they followed it down 
and camped by the Wabash. There Clark set his 
drenched, hungry, and dispirited followers to building 
some pirogues, which were nearly finished on the morn- 
ing of the 20th. About noon of the same day a small 
boat with five Frenchmen from Vincennes was cap- 
tured, from whom Clark gleaned the welcome intelli- 
gence that the condition of affairs was unchanged at 
the fort, and that there was no suspicion of any impend- 
ing danger. 

By dawn of the next day Clark began to ferry the 
troops over the Wabash, hoping to get to town by 
nightfall; but there was no dry land for leagues round 
about, save where a few hillocks rose island-like above 
the flood. The men pushed on with infinite toil for 
about three miles, the water often up to their chins, 
and camped on a hillock for the night. Clark kept the 
troops cheered up by every possible means, and records 
that he was much assisted by "a little antic drum- 
mer," a young boy who did good service by making 
the men laugh with his pranks and jokes. 

Next morning they resumed their march, the strong- 
est wading painfully through the water, while the weak 
and famished were carried in the canoes, which were 
so hampered by the bushes that they could hardly go 
even as fast as the toiling footmen. The evening and 
morning guns of the fort had been heard plainly by the 
men as they plodded onward. Once they came to a 
place so deep that there seemed no crossing, but Clark 



88 OTinning of tfje (BJHiesJt 

suddenly blackened his face with gunpowder, gave the 
war-whoop, and sprang forwards boldly into the ice-cold 
water; and the men followed him, one after another, 
without a word. Then he ordered those nearest him 
to begin one of their favorite songs; and soon the 
whole line took it up, and marched cheerfully onward. 
He intended to have the canoes ferry them over the 
deepest part, but before they came to it one of the men 
felt that his feet were in a path, and by carefully fol- 
lowing it they got to a sugar camp, where they camped 
for the night, still six miles from the town, without 
food, and drenched through. 

That night was bitterly cold, for there was a heavy 
frost, and the ice formed half an inch thick round the 
edges and in the smooth water. But the sun rose 
bright and glorious, and Clark, in burning words, told 
his stiffened, famished, half-frozen followers that the 
evening would surely see them at the goal of their 
hopes. Without waiting for an answer, he plunged 
into the water, and they followed him with a cheer. 
But before the third man had entered the water, he 
halted and told one of his officers to close the rear with 
twenty-five men, and to put to death any man who 
refused to march; and the whole line cheered him again. 

Before them lay a broad sheet of water, covering 
what was known as the Horse Shoe Plain; the floods 
had made it a shallow lake four miles across, unbroken 
by so much as a handsbreadth of dry land. On its 
farther side was a dense wood. Clark led breast-high 
in the water with fifteen or twenty of the strongest 



Clark's^ Campaign agains^t IPincennesi, 1 779 89 

men next him. About the middle of the plain the cold 
and exhaustion told so on the weaker men that the 
little dug-outs plied frantically to and fro to save the 
more helpless from drowning. Those, who, though 
weak, could still move onwards, clung to the stronger, 
and struggled ahead. When they at last reached the 
woods, the water became so deep that it was to the 
shoulders of the tallest; but the weak and those of low 
stature could now cling to the bushes and old logs, 
until the canoes were able to ferry them to a spot of dry 
land. Many on reaching the shore fell flat on their 
faces, and could not move farther. 

Fortunately at this time an Indian canoe, paddled by 
some squaws, was discovered and overtaken by one of 
the dug-outs. In it was half a quarter of a buffalo, 
with some corn, tallow, and kettles, an invaluable 
prize. Broth was immediately made, and was served 
out with great care; almost all of the men got some, 
but very many gave their shares to the weakly, rally- 
ing them and joking them to put them in good heart. 
The little refreshment, together with the fires and the 
bright weather, gave new life to all. They set out 
again in the afternoon, crossed a deep, narrow lake in 
their canoes, and after marching a short distance came 
to a copse of timber from which they saw the fort and 
town not two miles away. Here they halted and 
looked to their rifles and ammunition, making ready 
for the fight. Every man now feasted his eyes with 
the sight of what he had so long labored to reach, and 
forthwith forgot that he had suffered anything, making 



90 OTmning of tfie Wit^t 

light of what had been gone through, and passing from 
dogged despair to the most exultant self-confidence. 

After considering some further information, gained 
from a townsman captured at this point, Clark decided 
on the hazardous course of announcing his approach. 
So releasing the prisoner he sent him ahead with a letter 
to the people of Vincennes, in which he proclaimed to 
the French that he was that moment about to attack the 
town; that those townspeople who were friends to 
the Americans were to remain in their houses, where 
they would not be molested; that the friends of the 
king should repair to the fort, join the "hair-buyer 
general," and fight like men; and that those who did 
neither of these two things, but remained armed and 
in the streets, must expect to be treated as enemies. 
The Creoles in the town, when Clark's proclamation 
was read to them, gathered eagerly to discuss it; but 
so great was the terror of his name, and so impressed 
and appalled were they by the mysterious approach of 
an unknown army, and the confident and menacing 
language with which its coming was heralded, that 
none of them dared show themselves partisans of the 
British by giving warning to the garrison. The Indians 
likewise heard vague rumors of what had occurred 
and left the town; a number of the inhabitants who 
were favorable to the British followed the same course. 
Hamilton, attracted by the commotion, sent down his 
soldiers to find out what had occurred ; but before they 
succeeded, the Americans were upon them. 

Just when the gathering dusk prevented any dis- 



€lavWsi Campaign ^gainsit ^incennesi, 1779 91 

covery of his real numbers, Clark entered the town, 
and detaching fifty men to guard against the return of 
a scouting party that had been sent out, he attacked 
the fort with the rest. A few of the young Creoles of 
the town were allowed to join in the attack, it being 
deemed good policy to commit them definitely to the 
American side; while others rendered much assistance, 
especially by supplying ammunition to Clark*s scanty 
store. Firing was kept up with very little intermission 
throughout the night. At one o'clock the moon set, 
and Clark took advantage of the darkness to throw up 
an entrenchment, from behind which at sunrise on the 
24th the riflemen opened a hot fire into the port-holes 
of the strongest battery, and speedily silenced both its 
guns. The artillery and musketry of the defenders 
did very little damage to the assailants, who lost but 
one man wounded. In return, the backwoodsmen, by 
firing into the ports, soon rendered it impossible for the 
guns to be run out and served, and killed or severely 
wounded six or eight of the garrison. 

Early in the forenoon Clark summoned the fort to 
surrender, and while waiting for the return of the flag 
he gave his men the opportunity of getting breakfast, 
the first regular meal they had had for six days. Hamil- 
ton's counter-proposal of a three-days' truce Clark in- 
stantly rejected and ordered the firing to begin again. 
While the negotiations were going on a party of Hamil- 
ton's Indians returned from a successful scalping 
expedition against the frontier, and being ignorant 
of what had taken place marched straight into the 



92 aaSinning of tfje Wit^t 

town. Some of Clark's backwoodsmen instantly fell 
on them and killed or captured nine, besides two 
French partisans who had been out with them. One 
of the latter, the son of a Creole lieutenant in Clark's 
troops, after much pleading by his father and friends, 
procured the release of himself and his comrade. But 
Clark determined to make a signal example of the 
six captured Indians, both to strike terror into the 
rest and to show them how powerless the British were 
to protect them; so he had them led within sight of 
the fort and there tomahawked and thrown into the 
river. 

In the afternoon Hamilton sent out another flag, and 
he and Clark met in the old French church to arrange 
for the capitulation. It was finally agreed that the 
garrison, seventy-nine men in all, should surrender as 
prisoners of war *'to a set of uncivilized Virginia woods- 
men armed with rifles," as the British commander has 
left it recorded. In truth, it was a most notable achieve- 
ment. Clark had taken, without artillery, a heavy 
stockade, protected by cannon and swivels, and garri- 
soned by trained soldiers. His superiority in numbers 
was very far from being in itself sufficient to bring 
about the result, as witness the almost invariable suc- 
cess with which the similar but smaller Kentucky forts, 
unprovided with artillery and held by fewer men, were 
defended against much larger forces than Clark's. 
Much credit belongs to Clark's men, but most belongs 
to their leader. The boldness of his plan and the 
resolute skill with which he followed it out combined to 



Clarfe's; Campaisn ^sainsit ^incennesi 1 779 93 

make his feat the most memorable of all the deeds done 
west of the Alleghanies in the Revolutionary War. 

Immediately after taking the fort Clark sent Helm 
and fifty men, in boats armed with swivels, up the 
Wabash to intercept a party of forty French volunteers 
from Detroit, who were bringing to Vincennes bateaux 
heavily laden with goods of all kinds, to the value of 
ten thousand pounds sterling. In a few days Helm 
returned successful, and the spoils, together with the 
goods taken at Vincennes, were distributed among the 
soldiers, who "got almost rich." The gunboat Willing 
appeared shortly after the taking of the fort, the crew 
bitterly disappointed that they were not in time for 
the fighting. The long-looked-for messenger from the 
governor of Virginia also arrived, bearing to the sol- 
diers the warm thanks of the legislature of that State 
for their capture of Kaskaskia and the promise of 
more substantial reward. 

Clark was forced to parole most of his prisoners, but 
twenty-seven, including Hamilton himself, were sent 
to Virginia. The backwoodsmen regarded Hamilton 
with revengeful hatred, and he was not well treated 
while among them, save only by Boone — for the kind- 
hearted, fearless old pioneer never felt anything but 
pity for a fallen enemy. 

Clark soon received some small reinforcements, and 
was able to establish permanent garrisons at Vincennes, 
Kaskaskia, and Cahokia. With the Indian tribes who 
lived round about he made firm peace; against some 
hunting bands of Delawares, who came in and began 



94 Winning of tge WHtit 

to commit ravages, he waged ruthless and untiring 
war. His own men worshipped him; the French 
loved and stood in awe of him, while the Indians 
respected and feared him greatly. During the remain- 
der of the Revolutionary war the British were not able 
to make any serious effort to shake the hold he had 
given the Americans on the region lying around and 
between Vincennes and the Illinois. Moreover he so 
effectually pacified the tribes between the Wabash and 
the Mississippi that they did not become open and 
formidable foes of the whites until, with the close of the 
war against Britain, Kentucky passed out of the stage 
when Indian hostilities threatened her very life. 

Clark himself, towards the end of 1779, took up his 
abode at the Falls of the Ohio, where he served in some 
sort as a shield both for the Illinois and for Kentucky. 
He was ultimately made a brigadier-general of the 
Virginia militia, and to the harassed settlers in Ken' 
tucky his mere name was a tower of strength. 



CHAPTER X 

THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE, I779-I782 

AFTER the Moravian Indians were led by their 
missionary pastors to the banks of the Muskin- 
gum they dwelt peacefully and unharmed for 
several years. In Lord Dunmore*s war special care was 
taken by the white leaders that these Quaker Indians 
should not be harmed; and their villages of Salem, 
Gnadenhiitten, and Schonbrunn received no damage 
whatever. During the early years of the Revolutionary 
struggle they were not molested, but dwelt in peace and 
comfort in their roomy cabins of squared timbers, 
cleanly and quiet, industriously tilling the soil, abstain- 
ing from all strong drink, schooling their children, and 
keeping the Seventh Day as a day of rest. They 
sought to observe strict neutrality, harming neither the 
Americans nor the Indians, nor yet the allies of the 
latter, the British and French at Detroit. They hoped 
thereby to offend neither side, and to escape unhurt 
themselves. 

But this was wholly impossible. They occupied an 
utterly untenable position. Their villages lay midway 
between the white settlements southeast of the Ohio, 
and the towns of the Indians round Sandusky, the 

95 



96 OTiinning of tfje WHt^t 

bitterest foes of the Americans, and those most com- 
pletely under British influence. They were on the trail 
that the war parties followed, whether they struck at 
Kentucky or at the valleys of the Alleghany and Monon- 
gahela. Consequently the Sandusky Indians used the 
Moravian villages as half-way houses, at which to halt 
and refresh themselves whether starting on a foray or 
returning with scalps and plunder. 

By the time the war had lasted four or five years both 
the Indians and the backwoodsmen had become fear- 
fully exasperated with the unlucky Moravians. The 
Sandusky Indians were largely Wyandots, Shawnees, 
and Delawares, the latter being fellow-tribesmen of the 
Christian Indians; and so they regarded the Moravians 
as traitors to the cause of their kinsfolk, because they 
would not take up the hatchet against the whites. The 
British at Detroit feared lest the Americans might use 
the Moravian villages as a basis from which to attack 
the lake posts; they also coveted their men as allies; 
and so the baser among their oflftcers urged the San- 
dusky tribes to break up the villages and drive off the 
missionaries. The other Indian tribes likewise re- 
garded them with angry contempt and hostility; the 
Iroquois once sent word to the Chippewas and Ottawas 
that they gave them the Christian Indians "to make 
broth of." 

The Americans became even more exasperated. The 
war parties that plundered and destroyed their homes 
got shelter and refreshment from the Moravians, — ^who, 
indeed, dared not refuse it. The backwoodsmen could 



arfje iWorabian iSlasisiacre, 1 779-1 782 97 

not or would not see that this help was given with the 
utmost reluctance. Soon the frontiersmen began to 
clamor for the destruction of the Moravian towns; 
yet for a little while they were restrained by the 
Continental officers of the few border forts, who 
always treated these harmless Indians with the utmost 
kindness. 

The first blow the Moravians received was from the 
wild Indians. In the fall of this same year (1781) their 
towns were suddenly visited by a horde of armed 
warriors, horsemen, and footmen, from Sandusky and 
Detroit. These warriors insisted on the Christian 
Indians abandoning their villages and accompanying 
them back to Sandusy and Detroit; and they destroyed 
many of the houses, and much of the food for the men 
and the fodder for the horses and cattle. The Mora- 
vians begged humbly to be left where they were, but 
without avail. They were forced away to Lake Erie, 
the missionaries being taken to Detroit, while the 
Indians were left in great want on the plains of San- 
dusky. Many of them gradually made their way back 
to their desolate homes. 

A few Moravians had escaped, and remained in their 
villages; but these were soon captured by a small de- 
tachment of American militia, under Col. David Wil- 
liamson, and were brought to Fort Pitt, where the 
Continental commander. Col. John Gibson, at once 
released them, and sent them back to the villages 
unharmed. Gibson had all along been a firm friend of 
the Moravians. He had protected them against the 



98 Winning of tjje Wesit 

violence of the borderers, and had written repeated 
and urgent letters to Congress and to his superior 
officers, asking that some steps might be taken to 
protect them. 

The very day after Gibson sent the Christian Indians 
back to their homes, several murders were committed 
near Pittsburg, and many of the frontiersmen insisted 
that they were done with the good will or connivance 
of the Moravians. The settlements had suffered greatly 
all summer long, and the people clamored savagely 
against all the Indians, blaming both Gibson and Wil- 
liamson for not having killed or kept captive their 
prisoners. The ruffianly and vicious of course clamored 
louder than any; the mass of people who are always led 
by others, chimed in, in a somewhat lower key; and 
many good men were silent. Williamson was physi- 
cally a fairly brave officer and not naturally cruel; but 
he was weak and ambitious, ready to yield to any popu- 
lar demand, and, if it would advance his own interests, 
to connive at any act of barbarity. Gibson, however, 
who was a very different man, paid no heed to the cry 
raised against him. 

In 1782 the Indian outrages on the frontiers began 
very early. In February several families of settlers 
were butchered, some under circumstances of peculiar 
atrocity. In particular, four Sandusky Indians, having 
taken some prisoners, impaled two of them, a woman 
and a child, while on their way to the Moravian towns, 
where they rested and ate, prior to continuing their 
journey with their remaining captives. When they 



arjje iHorabian ifHasisiacre, 1 779-1 782 99 

left they warned the Moravians that white men were 
on their trail. A white man who had just escaped this 
same impaling party, also warned the Moravians that 
the exasperated borderers were preparing a party to 
kill them ; and Gibson, from Fort Pitt, sent a messenger 
to them, who, however, arrived too late. But the poor 
Christian Indians showed a curious apathy; their senses 
were numbed and dulled by their misfortunes, and they 
quietly awaited their doom. 

It was not long deferred. Eighty or ninety frontiers- 
men, under Williamson, hastily gathered together to 
destroy the Moravian towns. It was, of course, just 
such an expedition as most attracted the brutal, the 
vicious, and the ruffianly; but a few decent men, to 
their shame, went along. They started in March, and 
on the third day reached the fated villages. That no 
circumstance might be wanting to fill the measure of 
their infamy, they spoke the Indians fair, assured them 
that they meant well, and spent an hour or two in 
gathering together those who were in Salem and 
Gnadenhiitten, putting them all in two houses at the 
latter place. Those at the third town of Schonbrunn 
got warning and made their escape. 

As soon as the unsuspecting Indians were gathered 
in the two houses, the men in one, the women and 
children in the other, the whites held a council as to 
what should be done with them. The great majority 
were for putting them instantly to death. Eighteen 
men protested, and asked that the lives of the poor 
creatures should be spared, and then withdrew, calling 



100 aaainning of tjje WHt^t 

God to witness that they were innocent of the crime 
about to be committed. By rights they should have 
protected the victims at any hazard. One of them took 
off with him a small Indian boy, whose life was thus 
spared. With this exception only two lads escaped. 

When the murderers told the doomed Moravians 
their fate, they merely requested a short delay in which 
to prepare themselves for death. They asked one an- 
other's pardon for whatever wrongs they might have 
done, knelt down and prayed, kissed one another fare- 
well, " and began to sing hymns of hope and of praise 
to the Most High." Then the white butchers entered 
the houses and put to death the ninety-six men, women, 
and children that were within their walls. 

When the full particulars of the affair were known, 
all the best leaders of the border, almost all the most 
famous Indian fighters, joined in denouncing it. Nor 
is it right that the whole of the frontier folk should 
bear the blame for the deed. It is a fact, honorable and 
worthy of mention, that the Kentuckians were never 
mplicated in this or any similar massacre. But at the 
time, and in their own neighborhood — the corner of 
the Upper Ohio valley where Pennsylvania and Vir- 
ginia touch — the conduct of the murderers of the 
Moravians aroused no condemnation. 

In May a body of four hundred and eighty Pennsyl- 
vania and Virginia militia gathered at Mingo Bottom, 
on the Ohio, with the purpose of marching against and 
destroying the towns of the hostile Wyandots and 
Delawares in the neighborhood of the Sandusky River. 



aCfje iHorabian jfHasisiacre, 1779-1782 loi 

The Sandusky Indians were those whose attacks were 
most severely felt by that portion of the frontier; and 
for their repeated and merciless ravages they deserved 
the severest chastisement. 

The expedition against them was from every point 
of view just; and it was undertaken to punish them, 
and without any definite idea of attacking the remnant 
of the Moravians who were settled among them. On 
the other hand, the militia included in their ranks 
most of those who had taken part in the murderous 
expedition of two months before. How little the militia 
volunteers disapproved of the Moravian massacre was 
shown when, as was the custom, they met to choose a 
leader; for Williamson, who commanded at the mas- 
sacre, was beaten by only five votes, his successful 
opponent being Colonel William Crawford. 

After nine days' steady marching through the un- 
broken forests they came out on the Sandusky plains, 
billowy stretches of prairie covered with high coarse 
grass and dotted with islands of timber. Crawford 
hoped to surprise the Indian towns; but his progress 
was slow and the militia every now and then fired 
off their guns. The savages dogged his march and 
knew all his movements, and obtained from Detroit a 
number of lake Indians and a body of rangers and 
Canadian volunteers, under Captain Caldwell, as a 
reinforcement. 

On the fourth of June Crawford's troops reached one 
of the Wyandot towns. Finding this to be deserted, 
the army marched on, and late in the afternoon en- 



102 »inning of tfie Wit^t 

countered Caldwell and his Detroit rangers, together 
with about two hundred Delawares, Wyandots, and 
lake Indians, posted in a grove. A hot skirmish 
ensued, in which, in spite of Crawford's superiority in 
force, and of the exceptionally favorable nature of the 
country, he failed to gain any marked advantage. His 
troops, containing so large a leaven of the murderers 
of the Moravians, certainly showed small fighting ca- 
pacity when matched against armed men who could 
defend themselves. After the first few minutes neither 
side gained or lost ground. 

That night Crawford's men slept by their watch-fires 
in the grove that was won in the first rush, their foes 
camping round about in the open prairie. Next morn- 
ing the British and Indians were not inclined to renew 
the attack, wishing to wait until further reinforcements 
should arrive. The only chance for the American 
militia was to crush their enemies instantly; yet they 
lay idle all day long, save for an occasional harmless 
skirmish. Crawford's generalship was as poor as the 
soldiership of his men. 

In the afternoon the Indians were joined by one 
hundred and forty Shawnees. At sight of this acces- 
sion of strength the dispirited militia gave up all 
thought of anything but flight, though they were still 
equal in numbers to their foes. That night they be- 
gan a hurried and disorderly retreat. The Shawnees 
and Delawares attacked them in the darkness, causing 
some loss and great confusion, and a few of the troops 
got into the marsh. As Crawford was among the 



arfje iffliorabian jHasisiacre, 1 779-1 782 103 

missing, Williamson took command, and hastily con- 
tinued the retreat. The savages, however, did not 
make a very hot pursuit; so the defeated Americans 
reached Mingo Bottom on the 13 th of the month with 
little further loss. Many of the stragglers came in 
afterwards. In all about seventy either died of their 
wounds, were killed outright, or were captured. Among 
the latter was Crawford himself, who had become 
separated from the main body when it began its dis- 
orderly night retreat. After abandoning his jaded 
horse he started homewards on foot, but fell into the 
hands of a small party of Delawares, together with a 
companion named Knight. 

Crawford was burned alive at the stake; but Knight 
escaped from his captor while being taken to a neigh- 
boring village to be burned. For the Indians were 
fearfully exasperated by the Moravian massacre; and 
some of the former Moravians, who had joined their 
wild tribesmen, told the prisoners that from that time 
on not a single captive should escape torture. 

Slover, another captive, was taken round to various 
Indian villages and saw a number of his companions 
tomahawked or tortured to death. At last he too was 
condemned to be burned, and was actually tied to the 
stake. But a heavy shower came on, so wetting the 
wood that it was determined to reprieve him till the 
morrow. 

That night he was bound and put in a wigwam under 
the care of three warriors. They laughed and chatted 
with the prisoner, mocking him, and describing to him 



104 aaiinnmg of tfie Wit^t 

with relish all the torments that he was to sufifer. At 
last they fell asleep, and just before daybreak he man- 
aged to slip out of his rope and escape, entirely naked. 

Catching a horse, he galloped at speed for seventy 
miles, until his horse dropped dead under him late in 
the afternoon. Continuing the race on foot, at last he 
halted, sick and weary; but hearing afar off the halloo 
of his pursuers, he ran until after dark. He then 
snatched a few hours' restless sleep; but as soon as the 
moon rose he renewed his run for life, until at last he 
distanced his enemies, and, naked, bruised, and torn, 
on the morning of the sixth day he reached Wheeling. 

Until near the close of the year 1782 the settlements 
along the upper Ohio suffered heavily, a deserved retri- 
bution for failing to punish the dastardly deed of Wil- 
liamson and his associates. 



CHAPTER XI 

KENTUCKY UNTIL THE END OF THE REVOLUTION, 

1782-1783 

SEVENTEEN hundred and eighty-two proved to 
be the year of blood for Kentucky also. The 
British at Detroit had strained every nerve to 
drag into the v^ar the entire Indian population of the 
Northwest, and had finally succeeded in arousing even 
the most distant tribes. So, early in the spring, the 
Indians renewed their forays; horses were stolen, cabins 
burned, and women and children carried off captive. 
The people were confined closely totheirstockaded forts, 
from which small bands of riflemen sallied to patrol the 
country. 

In March a party of twenty-five Wyandots came into 
the settlements, passed Boonsborough, and killed and 
scalped a girl within sight of Estill's Station. The 
men from the latter, also to the number of twenty-five, 
hastily gathered under Captain Estill, and after two 
days' hot pursuit overtook the Wyandots. A fair 
stand-up fight followed, the better marksmanship of 
the whites being offset, as so often before, by the supe- 
riority their foes showed in sheltering themselves. At 
last Estill despatched a lieutenant and seven men to 

105 



106 aiaSinnins of tfje Wit^t 

get round the Wyandots and assail them In the rear; 
but either the Heutenant's heart or his judgment failed 
him; he took too long; for meanwhile the Wyandots 
closed in on the others, killing nine, including Estill, 
and wounding four, who, with their unhurt comrades, 
escaped. 

Various ravages and skirmishes were but the prelude 
to a far more serious attack. In July the British cap- 
tains Caldwell and McKee came down from Detroit 
with a party of rangers and an army of over a thousand 
Indians — the largest body of either red men or white 
that was mustered west of the Alleghanies during the 
Revolution. They meant to strike at Wheeling; but, 
alarmed by the rumor that Clark intended to attack 
the Shawnee towns, they turned back only to find 
that the alarm had been groundless. Most of the 
savages, with characteristic fickleness of temper, then 
declined to go farther; but with a body of over three 
hundred Hurons and lake Indians, and with their De- 
troit rangers, Caldwell and McKee crossed into Ken- 
tucky to attack the small forts of Fayette County. The 
best-defended and most central of these was Lexington, 
round which were grouped the other four — Bryan's 
(which was the largest), McGee's, McConnell's, and 
Boone's (not Boonsborough). 

The attack was made on Bryan's Station early on the 
morning of the i6th of August. Some of the settlers 
were in the cornfields, and the rest inside the palisade 
of standing logs; they were preparing to follow a band 
of marauders which had gone south of the Kentucky. 



Hentucfep Wintii tfje €nb of tfje l^ebolution 107 

Like so many other stations, Bryan's had no spring 
within its walls; and as soon as a few outlying scouts 
of the approaching party were discovered and an attack 
was to be feared, it became a matter of vital importance 
to lay in a supply of water. It was feared that to 
send the men to the spring would arouse suspicion in 
the minds of the hiding savages; and, accordingly, the 
women went down with their pails and buckets as usual. 
The younger girls showed some nervousness, but the 
old housewives marshalled them as coolly as possible, 
talking and laughing together, and by their unconcern 
completely deceived the few Indians who were lurking 
near by — for the main body had not yet come up. The 
savages feared that, if they attacked the women, all 
chance of surprising the fort would be lost; so the 
water-carriers were suffered to go back unharmed. 
Hardly were they within the fort, however, when the 
Indians found that they had been discovered, and 
attacked so quickly that they cut off some of the men 
who had lingered in the cornfields. 

At first a few Indians appeared on the side of the 
Lexington road, where they whooped and danced 
defiance to the fort. A dozen active young men were 
sent out to carry on a mock skirmish with the decoy 
party, while the rest of the defenders gathered behind 
the wall on the opposite side. As soon as a noisy but 
harmless skirmish had been begun by the sallying 
party, the main body of warriors burst out of the woods 
and rushed towards the western gate. A single volley 
from the loopholes drove them back, while the sally- 



io8 OTiinning of tfje W&t^t 

ing party returned at a run and entered the Lexing- 
ton gate unharmed, laughing at the success of their 
stratagem. 

There had been runners who sHpped out of the fort 
at the first alarm and went straight to Lexington, where 
they found that the men had just started out to cut off 
the retreat of some marauding savages. They speedily 
overtook the troops, and told of the attack on Bryan's. 
Instantly forty men under Major Levi Todd counter- 
marched to the rescue, seventeen being mounted and 
the others on foot. When they approached Bryan's, 
being fired upon by Indians from an adjoining corn- 
field, Todd and the horsemen, galloping hard through 
the dust and smoke, reached the fort in safety. The 
footmen were quickly forced to retreat towards 
Lexington. 

That night the Indians tried to burn the fort, shoot- 
ing flaming arrows onto the roofs of the cabins and 
rushing up to the wooden wall with lighted torches. 
But when day broke, they realized that it was hopeless 
to make any further effort and sullenly withdrew 
during the forenoon, the 17th of August. 

All this time the runners sent out from Bryan's had 
been speeding through the woods, summoning help 
from each of the little walled towns. The Fayette 
troops quickly gathered. Boone marched at the head 
of the men of his station. The men from Lexington, 
McConnell's and McGee's, rallied under John Todd. 
Troops also came from south of the Kentucky river; 
Trigg, McGarry, and Harlan led the men from Harrods- 



Eentucfep Wintil tfje €nb of tfje Eebolution 109 

burg, who were soonest ready to march, and likewise 
brought the news that Logan was raising the whole force 
of Lincoln in hot haste, and would follow in a couple 
of days. 

Next morning, after the departure of the Indians, 
the backwoods horsemen rode swiftly on the trail of 
their foes, who retreated toward the Blue Licks, and 
before evening came to where they had camped the 
night before. A careful examination of the camp-fires 
convinced the leaders that they were heavily outnum- 
bered. As they reached the Blue Licks the following 
morning, the 19th of August, they saw a few Indians 
retreating up a rocky ridge that led from the north 
bank of the river. The backwoodsmen halted on the 
south bank, and a short council was held. All turned 
naturally to Boone, the most experienced Indian fighter 
present. The wary old pioneer strongly urged that no 
attack be made at the moment, but that they should 
await the troops coming up under Logan. The Indians 
were certainly much superior in numbers; they were 
aware that they were being followed by a small force, 
and from the confident, leisurely way in which they 
had managed their retreat, were undoubtedly anxious 
to be overtaken and attacked. Todd and Trigg agreed 
with Boone, and so did many of the cooler riflemen. 
But the decision was not suff"ered to rest with the three 
colonels who nominally commanded. Many of the 
more headlong and impatient desired instant action; 
and these found a sudden leader in Major Hugh 
McGarry, who, greatly angered, did not hesitate to 



no Winnins of tfje OTiesit 

appeal from the decision of the council. Turning to 
the crowd of backwoodsmen, he spurred his horse into 
the stream, waving his hat over his head and calling on 
all who were not cowards to follow him. In an instant 
the hunter-soldiers plunged in after him with a shout, 
and splashed across the ford of the shallow river in 
huddled confusion. 

As the Indians were immediately ahead, the array 
of battle was at once formed. The right was led by 
Trigg, the center by Colonel-Commandant Todd in 
person, with McGarry under him, and an advance 
guard of twenty-five men under Harlan in front; 
while the left was under Boone. The ground was 
equally favorable to both parties, the timber being 
open and good. But the Indians had the advantage 
in numbers, and were able to outflank the whites. 

In a minute the spies brought word that the enemy 
were close in front. Whereupon the Kentuckians, in 
single battle-line, galloped up at speed to within sixty 
yards of their foes, leaped from their horses, and 
instantly gave and received a heavy fire. Boone was 
the first to open the combat; and under his command 
the left wing pushed the Indians opposite them back for 
a hundred yards. The old hunter of course led in per- 
son; his men stoutly backed him up, and their resolute 
bearing and skillful marksmanship gave to the whites in 
this part of the line a momentary victory. But on the 
right of the advance, affairs went badly from the start. 
The Indians were thrown out so as to completely sur- 
round Trigg's wing. Almost as soon as the firing 



Hentucfep Wintil tfje €nb of tfje lElebolution m 

became heavy in front, crowds of painted warriors rose 
from some hollows of long grass that lay on Trigg's 
right and poured in a close and deadly volley. Rush- 
ing forward, they took his men in rear and flank, and 
rolled them up on the center, killing Trigg himself. 
Harlan's advance guard was cut down almost to a man, 
their commander being among the slain. The center 
was then assailed from both sides by overwhelming 
numbers. Todd did all he could by voice and example 
to keep his men firm, and cover Boone's successful 
advance, but in vain. Riding to and fro on his white 
horse, he was shot through the body, and mortally 
wounded. He leaped on his horse again, but his 
strength failed him; the blood gushed from his mouth; 
he leaned forward and fell heavily from the saddle. 
With his death the center gave way; and, of course, 
Boone and the men of the left wing, thrust in advance, 
were surrounded on three sides. A wild rout followed, 
every one pushing in headlong haste for the ford. " He 
that could remount a horse was well off; he that could 
not, had no time for delay." The actual fighting had 
only occupied five minutes. 

Among the first to cross was a man named Nether- 
land, whose cautious advice had been laughed at before 
the battle. No sooner had he reached the south bank, 
than he reined up his horse and leaped off, calling on 
his comrades to stop and cover the flight of the others. 
The ford was choked with a struggling mass of horse- 
men and footmen, fleeing whites and following Indians. 
Netherland and his companions opened a brisk fire 



112 OTinning of tfje Mesit 

upon the latter, forcing them to withdraw for a moment 
and let the remainder of the fugitives cross in safety. 
Then the flight began again. The check that had 
been given the Indians allowed the whites time to 
recover heart and breath. Retreating in groups or 
singly through the forest, with their weapons reloaded, 
their speed of foot and woodcraft enabled such as had 
crossed the river to escape without further serious loss. 

Boone was among the last to leave the field. His 
son Israel was slain, and he himself was cut off from 
the river; but turning abruptly to one side, he broke 
through the ranks of the pursuers, outran them, swam 
the river, and returned unharmed to Bryan's Station. 

The loss to the defeated Kentuckians had been very 
great. Seventy were killed outright, including Colonel 
Todd and Lieutenant-Colonel Trigg, the first and third 
in command. Seven were captured, and twelve of 
those who escaped were badly wounded. The victors 
lost one of the Detroit rangers (a Frenchman), and six 
Indians killed and ten Indians wounded. Almost their 
whole loss was caused by the successful advance of 
Boone's troops, save what was due to Netherland when 
he rallied the flying backwoodsmen at the ford. 

Of the seven white captives four were put to death 
with torture; three eventually rejoined their people. 
One of them owed his being spared to a singular and 
amusing feat of strength and daring. When forced to 
run the gauntlet he, by his activity, actually succeeded 
in reaching the council-house unharmed; when almost 
to it, he turned, seized a powerful Indian and hurled 



Eentucfep Wintil tfie €nb of tfje l^ebolution 113 

him violently to the ground, and then, thrusting his 
head between the legs of another pursuer, he tossed 
him clean over his back, after which he sprang on a 
log, leaped up and knocked his heels together, crowed 
in the fashion of backwoods victors, and rallied the 
Indians as a pack of cowards. One of the old chiefs 
immediately adopted him into the tribe as his son. 

In a day or two Logan came up with four hundred 
men from south of the Kentucky, tall Simon Kenton 
marching at the head of the troops, as captain of a 
company. They buried the bodies of the slain on the 
battle-field, in long trenches, and heaped over them 
stones and logs. Meanwhile the victorious Indians, 
glutted with vengeance, recrossed the Ohio, and van- 
ished into the northern forests. 

The Indian ravages continued throughout the early 
fall months; outlying cabins were destroyed, the set- 
tlers were harried from the clearings and a station on 
Salt River was taken by surprise, thirty-seven people 
being captured. Stunned by the crushing disaster at 
the Blue Licks, and utterly disheartened and cast down 
by the continued ravages, many of the settlers threat- 
ened to leave the country. The utmost confusion and 
discouragement prevailed everywhere. 

At last the news of repeated disaster roused Clark to 
his old-time energy. The pioneers turned with eager 
relief towards the man who had so often led them to 
success. They answered his call with quick enthusi- 
asm; supplies were offered in abundance, and all who 
could shoot and ride met at the mouth of the Licking, 



114 aaainning of tfje WHt^t 

where Clark took supreme command. On the 4th of 
November, he left the banks of the Ohio and struck 
off northward through the forest, at the head of one 
thousand and fifty mounted riflemen. On the loth he 
attacked the Miami towns, and burned their cabins, 
together with an immense quantity of corn and pro- 
visions — a severe loss at the opening of winter, and 
scattered the forces sent from Detroit to help them. 
To the Indians this was a remarkable display of power, 
coming so soon after the battle of the Blue Licks, and 
they never again attempted a serious invasion of Ken- 
tucky. Thus ended the year of blood. 

At the beginning of 1783, when the news of peace 
was spread abroad, the inrush of new settlers became 
enormous, and Kentucky fairly entered on its second 
stage of growth. The days of the hunters and Indian 
fighters were over. The three counties were changed 
into the " District of Kentucky," with a court of com- 
mon law and chancery jurisdiction. This sat first at 
Harrodsburg, where a log court-house and a log jail 
were immediately built. Manufactories of salt were 
started at the licks, where it was sold at from three 
to five silver dollars a bushel; large grist-mills were 
erected at some of the stations; wheat crops were raised; 
and small distilleries were built. The gigantic system 
of river commerce had been begun the preceding year 
by one Jacob Yoder, who loaded a flatboat at the Old 
Redstone Fort, on the Monongahela, and drifted down 
to New Orleans, where he sold his goods, and returned 
to the Falls of the Ohio. Several regular schools were 



llentucfep Wintil tfje €nb of tfje Eebolution 115 

started, and at Shallowford Station, the sport-loving 
Kentuckians laid out a race-track. 

The first retail store since Henderson's, at Boons- 
borough, was closed in 1775, was established this year 
at the Falls; the goods were brought in wagons from 
Philadelphia to Pittsburg, and thence down the Ohio 
in flatboats. Clark undertook to supply the inhabi- 
tants with meat, employing a hunter named John 
Saunders, to whom he furnished three men, a pack- 
horse, salt, and ammunition; while Saunders agreed 
to be "assiduously industrious" in hunting. Buffalo 
beef, bear meat, deer hams, and bear oil were the 
commodities most sought after. The meat was to be 
properly cured and salted in camp, and sent from time 
to time to the Falls, where Clark was to dispose of it in 
market, a third of the price going to Saunders. 

Thus the settlers could no longer always kill their 
own game; and there were churches, schools, mills, 
stores, race-tracks, and markets in Kentucky. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE WATAUGA COMMONWEALTH, I769-I774 

THE eastern part of what Is now Tennessee con- 
sists of a great valley, running from north- 
east to southwest, bounded on one side by the 
Cumberland, and on the other by the Great Smoky and 
Unaka Mountains ; the latter separating it from North 
Carolina. In this valley arise and end the numerous 
streams that combine to make the Tennessee River ; and 
along its whole length ran the great war trail used by the 
Cherokees and their northern foes. As in western 
Virginia the first settlers came, for the most part, from 
Pennsylvania, following these valleys to the southwest ; 
so, in turn, to what is now eastern Tennessee, the first 
settlers came mainly from Virginia, from this same 
Pennsylvania stock. 

In 1769, the year that Boone first went to Kentucky, 
the first permanent settlers came to the banks of the 
Watauga. Two years later one of the new-comers sur- 
veyed the Virginia boundry line some distance to the 
westward, and discovered that the Watauga settlement 
came within the limits of North Carolina. Hitherto 
the settlers had supposed that they were governed by 

the Virginian law, and that their rights as against the 

116 



arbe OTatauga CommonttjeaUfj, 1769-74 117 

Indians were guaranteed by the Virginian govern- 
ment; but this discovery threw them back upon their 
own resources. 

As North Carolina was always a turbulent and dis- 
orderly colony, unable to enforce law and justice even 
in the long-settled districts, it was wholly out of the 
question to appeal to her for aid in governing a remote 
and outlying community. Moreover, about the time 
that the Watauga commonwealth was founded, the 
troubles in North Carolina developed into open war 
between the adherents of the royal governor, Tryon, 
and the Regulators, as the insurgents styled them- 
selves. As a consequence of these troubles, many 
people from the back counties of North Carolina crossed 
the mountains, and took up their abode among the 
pioneers on the Watauga. 

The settlers along the Watauga early in 1772 found 
themselves obliged to organize a civil government 
under which they should live. Accordingly they de- 
cided to adopt written articles of agreement, by which 
their conduct should be governed; and these were 
known as the Articles of the Watauga Association. 
They formed a written constitution, the first ever 
adopted west of the mountains. It is this fact of the 
early independence and self-government of the settlers 
along the head-waters of the Tennessee that gives to 
their history its peculiar importance. They were the 
first men of American birth to establish a free and 
independent community on the continent. 

The next step taken by the Watauga settlers was to 



ii8 SaSinmng: of tfje OTesJt 

meet in a general convention, akin to the New England 
town-meeting, and to elect a representative assembly. 
This consisted of thirteen representatives, who pro- 
ceeded to elect from their number five to form a com- 
mittee or court, which should carry on the actual 
business of government, and should exercise both 
judicial and executive functions. This court had a 
clerk and a sheriff to record and enforce its decrees. 
Their chairman was also chairman of the representative 
body. 

The five commissioners settled all disputes by the 
decision of a majority; and in dealing with non-resi- 
dents they made them give bonds to abide by their 
decision, thus avoiding any necessity of proceeding 
against their persons. On behalf of the community it- 
self, they were not only permitted to control its internal 
affairs, but also to secure lands by making treaties 
with a foreign power, the Indians; a distinct exercise of 
the right of sovereignty. 

They held their sessions at stated and regular times, 
and took the law of Virginia as their standard for de- 
cisions. They saw to the recording of deeds and wills, 
and carried on a most vigorous warfare against law- 
breakers, especially horse-thieves. For six years their 
government continued in full vigor; then, in February, 
1778, North Carolina having organized Washington 
County, which included all of what is now Tennessee, 
the governor of that State appointed justices of the 
peace and militia officers for the new county, and the 
old system came to an end. 



^fje WiatawQa CommontDealtft, 1769-74 119 

In this movement to get a firm government, and in 
the acts of the community in carrying it on, the names 
of James Robertson and John Sevier stand forth most 
prominently. Robertson, a North CaroHnian, had 
come over the mountains in 1771. His energy and 
natural ability brought him to the front at once, 
although he had much less than even the average back- 
woods education. Both he and Sevier were still under 
thirty years of age. Sevier, who came a year later, 
like his friend Robertson, entered eagerly into the 
dangers and difficulties of the pioneers, and quickly 
began to exercise an almost unbounded influence over 
the backwoodsmen. This was due largely to his ready 
tact, invariable courtesy, and generous hospitality. 
His skill and dashing prowess quickly won for him a 
place at the head of the county militia, and later made 
him the most renowned Indian fighter of the Southwest. 

Early in 1772 Virginia made a treaty with the Chero- 
kee Nation. Immediately afterwards the agent of the 
British Government among the Cherokees ordered the 
Watauga settlers to instantly leave their lands. They 
refused to move; but feeling the insecurity of their 
tenure they deputed two commissioners to make a 
treaty with the Cherokees. This was successfully 
accomplished, the Indians leasing to the associated 
settlers all the lands on the Watauga waters for the space 
of eight years, in consideration of about six thousand 
dollars' worth of blankets, paint, muskets, and the 
like. 

After the lease was signed a day was appointed on 



J 20 Winning of tfje Mesit 

which to hold a great race, wrestHng matches, and other 
sports, at Watauga. Not only many whites from the 
various settlements, but also a number of Indians, came 
to see or take part in the sports; and all went well 
until the evening, when some lawless men, who had 
been lurking in the woods round about, killed an 
Indian, whereat his fellows left the spot in great 
anger. 

The settlers, alarmed at the prospect of an Indian 
war, were rescued by the daring of Robertson. Leav- 
ing the others to build a palisaded fort, Robertson set 
off alone through the woods and followed the great war 
trail down to the Cherokee towns. His quiet, reso- 
lute fearlessness impressed the savages to whom he 
went, and helped to save his life; moreover, the Chero- 
kees knew him and trusted his word. His ready tact 
and knowledge of Indian character did the rest. He 
persuaded the chiefs and warriors to meet him in coun- 
cil, assured them of the anger and sorrow with which 
all the Watauga people viewed the murder, which had 
undoubtedly been committed by some outsider, and 
wound up by declaring his determination to have the 
wrong-doer arrested and punished for his crime. The 
Indians finally consented to pass the affair over and 
not take vengeance upon innocent men. Then the 
daring backwoods diplomatist, well pleased with the 
success of his mission, returned to the anxious little 
community. 

For several years after they made their lease with 
the Cherokees the men of the Watauga, or, as they 



arjje OTatauga Commonttjealtfj, 1769-74 121 

afterwards were called, of the Holston settlements, were 
not troubled by their Indian neighbors. By degrees 
they wrought out of the wilderness comfortable homes 
filled with plenty; and they successfully solved the 
difficult problem of self-government. 



CHAPTER XIII 
king's mountain, 1780 

DURING the Revolutionary War the men of the 
West for the most part took no share in the 
actual campaigning against the British and 
Hessians. Their duty was to conquer and hold the 
wooded wilderness that stretched westward to the 
Mississippi; and to lay therein the foundations of many 
future commonwealths. Yet at a crisis in the great 
struggle for liberty, at one of the darkest hours for the 
patriot cause, it was given to a band of western men 
to come to the relief of their brethren of the seaboard 
and to strike a telling and decisive blow for all America. 
By the end of 1779, the British had reconquered 
Georgia. In May, 1780, they captured Charleston, 
speedily reduced all South Carolina to submission, and 
then marched into the old North State. Cornwallis, 
much the ablest of the British generals, was in com- 
mand over a mixed force of British, Hessian, and loyal 
American regulars, aided by Irish volunteers and bodies 
of refugees from Florida. In addition, the friends to 
the King's cause, who were very numerous in the 
southernmost States, rose at once on the news of the 
British successes, and thronged to the royal standards; 



king's; iWountam, 1780 123 

so that a number of regiments of Tory militia were 
soon embodied. McGillivray, the Greek chief, sent 
bands of his warriors to assist the British and Tories on 
the frontier, and the Cherokees Hkewise came to their 
help. The patriots for the moment abandoned hope, 
and bowed before their victorious foes. 

Cornwallis himself led the main army northward 
against the American forces. Meanwhile he entrusted 
to two of his most redoubtable officers the task of 
scouring the country, raising the loyalists, scattering 
the patriot troops that were still embodied, and finally 
crushing out all remaining opposition. These two men 
were Tarleton the dashing cavalryman, and Ferguson 
the rifleman, the skilled partisan leader. 

Patrick Ferguson, the son of Lord Pitfour, was a 
Scotch soldier, at this time about thirty-six years old, 
who had been twenty years in the British army. He 
had served with distinction against the French in Ger- 
many, had quelled a Carib uprising in the West Indies, 
and in 1777 was given the command of a company of 
riflemen in the army opposed to Washington, playing 
a good part at Brandywine and Monmouth. He was 
of middle height and slender build, with a quiet, seri- 
ous face and a singularly winning manner; and withal, 
he was of dauntless courage, of hopeful, eager temper, 
and remarkably fertile in shifts and expedients. He 
was particularly fond of night attacks, surprises, and 
swift, sudden movements generally, and was unwearied 
in drilling and disciplining his men. Not only was he 
an able leader, but he was also a finished horseman, 



124 OTinnins of tfie OTe^t 

and the best marksman with both pistol and rifle in the 
British army. Moreover, his courtesy stood him in 
good stead with the people of the country; he was 
always kind and civil, and would spend hours in talk- 
ing affairs over with them and pointing out the mis- 
chief of rebelling against their lawful sovereign. He 
soon became a potent force in winning the doubtful to 
the British side, and exerted a great influence over the 
Tories; they gathered eagerly to his standard, and he 
drilled them with patient perseverance. 

After the taking of Charleston Ferguson's volunteers 
and Tarleton's legion, acting separately or together, 
speedily destroyed the different bodies of patriot sol- 
diers. Their activity and energy was such that the 
opposing commanders seemed for the time being quite 
unable to cope with them, and the American detach- 
ments were routed and scattered in quick succession. 
Tarleton did his work with brutal ruthlessness ; his 
men plundered and ravaged, maltreated prisoners, and 
hung without mercy all who were suspected of turning 
from the loyalist to the Whig side. 

Ferguson, on the contrary, while quite as valiant 
and successful a commander, showed a generous heart, 
and treated the inhabitants of the country fairly well. 
Yet even his tender mercies must have seemed cruel to 
the Whigs, as may be judged by the following extract 
from a diary kept by one of his lieutenants: "This 
day Col. Ferguson got the rear guard in order to do 
his King and country justice, by protecting friends 
and widows, and destroying rebel property; also to 



39289nn9T to tocnsvoD ,idiv38 nrfol, 

;*niiq riqeiaoriJil bio hb rnoi'? 



John Sevier, Governor of Tennessee 

From an old lithograph print 



lU Jut 



fairiy 
adci n lied en.' 






friend. 



icing's; iMountain, 1780 125 

collect live stock for the use of the army. All of which 
we effect as we go by destroying furniture, breaking 
windows, etc., taking all their horned cattle, horses, 
mules, sheep, etc., and their negroes to drive them." 

Ferguson, having reduced South Carolina to submis- 
sion, pushed his victories to the foot of the Smoky and 
the Yellow Mountains. Here he learned that some of 
these mountaineers had already borne arms against 
him, and were now harboring men who had fled before 
his advance. By a prisoner he at once sent them warn- 
ing to cease their hostilities, and threatened that if they 
did not desist he would march across the mountains, 
hang their leaders, put their fighting men to the sword, 
and waste their settlements with fire. 

When the Holston men learned of Ferguson's threats, 
they did not wait for his attack, but sallied from their 
strongholds to meet him. Hitherto the war with the 
British had been something afar off; now it had come 
to their thresholds and their spirits rose to the 
danger. 

At the Sycamore Shoals of the Watauga, the riflemen 
gathered on the 25th of September, Campbell bringing 
from the Virginia section of the Holston region four 
hundred men, Sevier and Shelby two hundred and forty 
each, while the refugees who had fled across the moun- 
tains under McDowell amounted to about one hundred 
and sixty. 

To raise money for provisions Sevier and Shelby 
were obliged to take, on their individual guaranties, 
the funds that had been received from the sale of lands. 



126 OTinnms of tfje Mesit 

They amounted in all to nearly thirteen thousand dol- 
lars, every dollar of which they afterward refunded. 

On the 26th they began to march, over a thousand 
strong, most of them mounted on swift, wiry horses. 
Their fringed and tasseled hunting-shirts were girded 
in by bead-worked belts, and the trappings of their 
horses were stained red and yellow. On their heads 
they wore caps of coon-skin or mink-skin, with the tails 
hanging down, or else felt hats, in each of which was 
thrust a buck-tail or a sprig of evergreen. Every man 
carried a small-bore rifle, a tomahawk, and a scalping- 
knife. A very few of the officers had swords, and 
there was not a bayonet nor a tent in the army. Before 
leaving their camping-ground at the Sycamore Shoals 
they gathered in an open grove to hear a stern old 
Presbyterian preacher invoke on the enterprise the 
blessing of Jehovah. 

The army marched along Doe River, driving their 
beef cattle with them, and went up the pass between 
Roan and Yellow Mountains. The table-land on the 
top was deep in snow. Here two Tories who were in 
Sevier's band deserted and fled to warn Ferguson; and 
the troops, on learning of the desertion, abandoned 
their purpose of following the direct route, and turned 
to the left, taking a more northerly trail. On they 
went, down through the ravines and across the spurs by 
a stony and precipitous path, crossing the Blue Ridge 
at Gillespie's Gap. That night they camped on the 
North Fork of the Catawba, and next day they went 
down the river to Quaker Meadows. 



lling's; iHountain, 1780 127 

At this point they were joined by three hundred and 
fifty North CaroHna mihtia, who were creeping along 
through the woods hoping to fall in with some party 
going to harass the enemy. They were under Col. 
Benjamin Cleavland, a mighty hunter and Indian 
fighter, famous for his great size and his skill with the 
rifle, no less than for the curious mixture of courage, 
rough good-humor, and brutality in his character. He 
bore a ferocious hatred to the royalists, and in the 
course of the vindictive civil war carried on between 
the Whigs and Tories in North Carolina he suffered 
much. He had no hope of redress, save in his own 
strength and courage, and on every favorable oppor- 
tunity he hastened to take more than ample vengeance. 
His wife was a worthy helpmeet. Once, in his absence, 
a Tory horse-thief was brought to their home, and after 
some discussion the captors, Cleavland's sons, turned 
to their mother, who was placidly going on with her 
ordinary domestic work, to know what they should do 
with the prisoner. Taking from her mouth the corn- 
cob pipe she had been smoking, she coolly sentenced 
him to be hung, and hung he was without further 
delay or scruple. 

The Tories were already on the alert. Some of them 
had been harassing Cleavland, and had ambushed his 
advance guard. But they did not dare try to arrest the 
progress of so formidable a body of men as had been 
gathered together at Quaker Meadows; and contented 
themselves with sending repeated warnings to Ferguson. 

On October ist the combined forces marched past 



128 OTinning of tfje OTesit 

Pilot Mountain, and camped near the heads of Cane 
and Silver Creeks. Hitherto each colonel had com- 
manded his own men, there being no general head, and 
every morning and evening the colonels had met in 
concert to decide the day's movements. The whole 
expedition was one of volunteers, the agreement be- 
tween the officers and the obedience rendered them by 
the soldiers simply depending on their own free-will; 
there was no legal authority on which to go, for the 
commanders had called out the militia without any 
instructions from the executives of their several States. 
Disorders had naturally broken out. 

At so important a crisis the good-sense and sincere 
patriotism of the men in command made them sink all 
personal and local rivalries. On the 2d of October they 
all gathered to see what could be done to stop the dis- 
orders and give the army a single head; for it was 
thought that in a day or two they would close in with 
Ferguson. They were in Col. Charles McDowell's 
district, and he was the senior officer; but the others 
distrusted his activity and judgment, and were not 
willing that he should command. To solve the diffi- 
culty Shelby proposed that supreme command should 
be given to Colonel Campbell, who had brought the 
largest body of men with him, and who was a Vir- 
ginian, whereas the other four colonels were North 
Carolinians. This proposition was agreed to; its 
adoption did much to ensure the subsequent success. 

The mountain army had again begun its march on 
the afternoon of the third day of the month. Before 



llins'sJ ilountain, 1780 129 

starting the colonels summoned their men, told them 
the nature and danger of the service, and asked such 
as were unwilling to go farther to step to the rear; but 
not a man did so. Then Shelby made them a short 
speech, telling them, when they encountered the enemy, 
not to wait for the word of command, but each to " be 
his own officer," and to shelter himself as far as possi- 
ble, and not to throw away a chance; if they came on 
the British in the woods they were " to give them Indian 
play," and advance from tree to tree, pressing the 
enemy unceasingly. He ended by promising them that 
their officers would shrink from no danger, but would 
lead them everywhere, and, in their turn, they must be 
on the alert and obey orders. 

When they set out, their uncertainty as to Fergu- 
son's movements caused them to go slowly, their 
scouts sometimes skirmishing with lurking Tories. 
They reached the mouth of Cane Creek, near Gil- 
bert Town, on October 4th. Meantime they had 
been joined by several bands of refugee Georgians, 
while a much larger force under Lacey and Hill was 
rapidly approaching them. Lacey, riding over from 
these companies who were marching from Flint Hill, 
reported the direction in which Ferguson had fled, 
and at the same time appointed the Cowpens as the 
meeting-place for their respective forces. That even- 
ing Campbell and his fellow-officers held a council to 
decide what course was best to follow. Their whole 
army was so jaded that they could not possibly over- 
take Ferguson; yet his flight made them feel all the 



130 OTiinnins of tfje OTesit 

more confident that they could beat him, and extremely 
reluctant that he should get away. In consequence, at 
daybreak on the morning of the 6th, seven hundred 
and fifty of the least tired, best armed, and best 
mounted men pushed rapidly after the foe. 

Riding all day, they reached the Cowpens a few 
minutes after the arrival of the Flint Hill militia under 
Lacey and Hill. In the council that was then held it 
was decided once more to choose the freshest soldiers, 
and fall on Ferguson before he could retreat or be rein- 
forced. Again the officers went round, picking out the 
best men, the best rifles, and the best horses. Shortly 
after nine o'clock the choice had been made, and nine 
hundred and ten picked riflemen, well mounted, rode 
out of the circle of flickering firelight, and began their 
night journey. A few determined footmen followed, 
and actually reached the battle-field in season to do 
their share of the fighting. 

All this time Ferguson had not been idle. He first 
heard of the advance of the backwoodsmen on Septem- 
ber 30th, from the two Tories who deserted Sevier on 
Yellow Mountain. On the ist of October he sent out 
a proclamation well suited to goad into action the rough 
Tories, and the doubtful men, to whom it was addressed. 
He told them that the Back Water men had crossed the 
mountains, with chieftains at their head who would 
surely grant mercy to none who had been loyal to the 
King. He called on them to grasp their arms on the 
moment and run to his standard, if they desired to live 
and bear the name of men; to rally without delay, un- 



lling'sJiHiountain, 1780 131 

less they wished to be eaten up by the incoming horde 
of cruel barbarians, to be themselves robbed and mur- 
dered, and to see their daughters and wives abused by 
the dregs of mankind. In ending, he told them scorn- 
fully that if they choose to be spat upon and degraded 
forever by a set of mongrels, to say so at once, that their 
women might turn their backs on them and look out for 
real men to protect them. 

Exaggerated reports of the increase in the number of 
his foes were brought to Ferguson, as he gradually drew 
off from the mountains, doubling and turning so as to 
puzzle his pursuers and gain time for his friends to 
gather; for on every day furloughed men rejoined him, 
and bands of loyalists came into camp; and he was in 
momentary expectation of help from Cornwallis. As 
to the report that the approaching foe was from Ken- 
tucky, and that Boone himself was among the number, 
Ferguson cared very little; but, keeping, as he sup- 
posed, a safe distance away from them, he halted at 
King's Mountain in South Carolina on the evening of 
October 6th, pitching his camp on a steep, narrow hill 
just south of the North Carolina boundary. 

The King's Mountain range itself is about sixteen 
miles in length, extending in a southwesterly course 
from one State into the other. The stony, half-isolated 
ridge on which Ferguson camped was some six or seven 
hundred yards long and half as broad from base to base, 
or two thirds that distance on top. The steep sides 
were clad with a growth of open woods, including both 
saplings and big timber. Ferguson parked his baggage 



132 OTiinnins of tfje OTesit 

wagons along the northeastern part of the mountain. 
The next day he did not move; he was as near to the 
army of Cornwallis at Charlotte as to the mountaineers, 
and he thought it safe to remain where he was. He 
deemed the position one of great strength, as indeed it 
would have been, if assailed in the ordinary European 
fashion; and he was confident that even if the rebels 
attacked him, he could readily beat them back. But as 
General Lee, "Light-Horse Harry," afterwards re- 
marked, the hill was much easier assaulted with the 
rifle than defended with the bayonet. 

The backwoodsmen, on leaving the camp at the 
Cowpens, marched slowly through the night, which 
was dark and drizzly, keeping a little out of the straight 
route, to avoid any patrol parties; and at sunrise — the 
morning of October 7th — they splashed across the 
Cherokee Ford. Throughout the forenoon the rain 
continued, but the troops pushed steadily onwards 
without halting, wrapping their blankets and the skirts 
of their hunting-shirts round their gun-locks, to keep 
them dry. Some horses gave out, but their riders, like 
the thirty or forty footmen who had followed from the 
Cowpens, struggled onwards and were in time for the 
battle. When near King's Mountain they captured 
two Tories, and from them learned Ferguson's exact 
position; that "he was on a ridge between two 
branches," where some deer hunters had camped 
the previous fall. These deer hunters, now with the 
oncoming backwoodsmen, declared that they knew 
the ground well. Without halting, Campbell and the 



f Oi of tht WBtt&t 



part or the mountain. 

^^e was as near to the 

■ ' > the mountaineers, 

ere he was. He 

\ as indeed it 

an 

rebels 



Battle of King's Mountain 

From a steel engraving 



■ UeCi, but 



v,..iid their gun-locks, to keep 
:_ : 5 gave out, but their riders, like- 
forty footmen who had followed from the 
is and were in time for the 
ear King*s Mountain they captured 
from them learned Ferguson's exact 

"■\'0 
■:\ 



Wiinq,'^ iWountain, 1780 133 

other colonels rode forward together, and agreed to 
surround the hill, so that their men might fire upwards 
without risk of hurting one another. From one or two 
other captured Tories, and from a staunch Whig friend, 
they learned the exact disposition of the British and 
loyalist force, and were told that Ferguson wore a light, 
parti-colored hunting-shirt; and he was forthwith 
doomed to be a special target for the backwoods rifles. 
A mile from the hill the final arrangements were 
made, and the men, who had been marching in loose 
order, formed in line of battle. They then rode for- 
ward in absolute silence, and, when close to the west 
slope of the battle-hill, dismounted and tied their 
horses to trees, fastening their great coats and blankets 
to the saddles. A few of the officers remained mounted. 
The countersign of the day was "Buford," the name of 
the colonel whose troops Tarleton had defeated and 
butchered. The final order was for each man to look 
carefully at the priming of his rifle, and then to fight 
to the death. The right of the American center was 
composed of Campbell's troops; the left center of 
Shelby's. These two bodies separated slightly so as to 
come up opposite sides of the narrow southwestern spur 
of the mountain. The right wing was led by Sevier, 
with his own and McDowell's troops. On the extreme 
right Major Winston, splitting off from the main body 
a few minutes before, had led a portion of Cleavland's 
men by a roundabout route to take the mountain in the 
rear, and cut off all retreat. He and his followers 
"rode like fox-hunters" until they reached the foot of 



134 ?[iaainnins of tfje Wit^t 

the mountain, galloping at full speed through the rock- 
strewn woods ; and they struck exactly the right place, 
closing up the only gap by which the enemy could have 
retreated. The left wing, led by Cleavland, contained 
the bulk of the North and South Carolinians who had 
joined the army at the Cowpens. The different leaders 
cheered on their troops by a few last words as they went 
into the fight; being especially careful to warn them 
how to deal with the British bayonet charges, and, 
when forced back, to rally and return at once to the 
fight. 

When Ferguson learned that his foes were on him, 
he sprang on his horse, his drums beat to arms, and he 
instantly made ready for the fight. Though surprised 
by the unexpected approach of the Americans, he ex- 
erted himself with such energy that his troops were in 
battle array when the attack began. The outcrops of 
slaty rock on the hillsides made ledges which, together 
with the boulders strewn on top, served as breastworks 
for the less disciplined Tories; while he in person led 
his regulars and such of the loyalist companies as were 
furnished with the hunting-knife bayonets. He hoped 
to be able to repluse his enemies by himself taking the 
offensive, with a succession of bayonet charges; a form 
of attack in which his experience with Pulaski and 
Huger had given him great confidence. 

At three o'clock in the afternoon the firing began, as 
the Americans drove in the British pickets. Campbell 
began the assault, riding along the line of his riflemen, 
and ordering them to raise the Indian war-whoop. 



lling's; iHountain, 1780 i35 

They then rushed upwards and began to fire. Fer- 
guson's men on the summit responded with heavy 
volley-firing, and then charged, cheering lustily. The 
mountain was covered with smoke and flame, and 
seemed to thunder. Ferguson's troops advanced stead- 
ily, their officers riding at their head with their swords 
flashing; and the mountaineers, who had no bayonets, 
could not withstand the shock. They fled down the 
hillside, and, being sinewy, nimble men, swift of foot, 
they were not overtaken, save a few of sullen temper, 
who would not retreat and were bayoneted. No sooner 
had the British charge spent itself than Campbell called 
out in a voice of thunder to rally and return to the fight, 
and in a minute or two they were all climbing the hill 
again, going from tree to tree, and shooting at the sol- 
diers on the summit. Campbell's horse, exhausted by 
the break-neck galloping hither and thither over the 
slope, gave out; he then led the men on foot, his voice 
hoarse with shouting, his face blackened with powder. 
No sooner had Ferguson returned from his charge on 
Campbell than he found Shelby's m^en swarming up to 
the attack on the other side. Shelby had refused to let 
his people return the dropping fire of the Tory skirmish- 
ers until they were close up. Ferguson promptly 
charged his new foes and drove them down the hill- 
side; but the instant he stopped, Shelby brought his 
marksmen up nearer than ever, and with a deadlier fire. 
While Ferguson's bayonet-men — both regulars and 
militia — charged to and fro, the rest of the loyalists 
kept up a heavy fire from behind the rocks on the hill- 



136 Minning of tfje OTesit 

top. The battle raged in every part, for the Americans 
had by this time surrounded their foes, and were ad- 
vancing rapidly under cover of the woods. Ferguson, 
conspicuous from his hunting-shirt, rode hither and 
thither with reckless bravery, his sword in his left 
hand — for he had never entirely regained the use of 
his right, which had been wounded at Brandywine; 
while he made his presence known by the shrill, ear- 
piercing notes of a silver whistle which he always 
carried. Whenever the British and Tories charged 
with the bayonet, the mountaineers were forced back 
down the hill; but the instant the red lines halted and 
returned to the summit, the stubborn riflemen followed 
close behind, and from every tree and boulder continued 
their irregular and destructive fire. The peculiar feat- 
ure of the battle was the success with which, after every 
retreat, Campbell, Shelby, Sevier, and Cleavland rallied 
their followers on the instant; the great point was to 
prevent the men from becoming panic-stricken when 
forced to flee. The pealing volleys of musketry at 
short intervals drowned the incessant clatter of the less 
noisy but more deadly backwoods rifles. The wild 
whoops of the mountain men, the cheering of the loy- 
alists, the shouts of the officers, and the cries of the 
wounded mingled with the reports of the firearms; and 
shrill above the din rose the calling of the silver whistle. 
Wherever its notes were heard, the wavering British line 
came on, and the Americans were forced back. Fergu- 
son dashed from point to point, to repel the attacks of 
his foes, which were made with ever-increasing fury. 



i^ing'sf iWountain, 1780 137 

Two horses were killed under him; but he continued 
to lead the charging parties; slashing and hewing with 
his sword until it was broken off at the hilt. At last, 
as he rode full speed against a part of Sevier's men, 
who had almost gained the hill crest, he became a fair 
mark for the vengeful backwoods riflemen, and he fell, 
pierced by half a dozen bullets. The gallant British 
leader was dead, and the silver whistle was now silent. 

During one of the bayonet charges, a backwoodsman 
was in the act of cocking his rifle when a loyalist, dash- 
ing at him with the bayonet, pinned his hand to his 
thigh; the rifle went off^, the ball going through the 
loyalist's body and the two men fell together. As the 
lines came close together, many of the Whigs recog- 
nized in the Tory ranks their former neighbors, friends, 
or relatives; and the men taunted and jeered one an- 
other with bitter hatred. In more than one instance 
brother was slain by brother or cousin by cousin. The 
lowland Tories felt an especial dread of the mountain- 
eers; looking with awe and hatred on their tall, gaunt, 
rawboned figures, their long, matted hair and wild faces. 

Now that the British regulars had lost half their 
number, that the militia was in the same plight, and 
that the Tories, the least disciplined, could no longer be 
held to their work, the loyalist army broke and fled. 
De Peyster, the next in command, rallied the fugitives 
among the tents and baggage wagons, where he again 
formed them. But their foes still surrounded them 
on every hand, after the fighting had lasted an hour; 
and as all hope was gone, he hoisted a white flag. 



138 aaainnins of tfie Wesit 

In the confusion the firing continued in parts of the 
Hnes on both sides. Some of the backwoodsmen did 
not know what a white flag meant; others disregarded 
it, savagely calUng out, "Give them Buford's play," 
in allusion to Tarleton's having refused quarter to 
Buford's troops. Others of the men as they came up 
began shooting before they learned what had happened. 
A number of the loyalists escaped in turmoil, putting 
badges in their hats like those worn by certain of the 
American militia, and thus passing in safety through 
the Whig lines. It was at this time, after the white flag 
had been displayed, that Colonel Williams was shot, 
as he charged a few of the Tories who were still firing. 
The flag was hoisted again, and white handkerchiefs 
were also waved, from guns and ramrods. Shelby, 
spurring up to part of the line, ordered the Tories to 
lay down their arms, which they did. Campbell, at 
the same moment, running among his men with his 
sword pointed to the ground, called on them for God's 
sake to cease firing; and turning to the prisoners he 
bade the officers rank by themselves, and the men to 
take off their hats and sit down. He then ordered De 
Peyster to dismount; which the latter did, and handed 
his sword to Campbell. The various British officers like- 
wise surrendered their swords, to different Americans; 
many of the militia commanders who had hitherto only 
possessed a tomahawk or scalping-knife thus for the first 
time getting possession of one of the coveted weapons. 

Of the entire British and Tory force about three hun- 
dred were killed or disabled; and of their four militia 



llmg'fl( iKountain, 1780 139 

colonels, two were killed, one wounded, and the other 
captured — a sufficient proof of the obstinacy of the 
resistance. The American loss in killed and wounded 
amounted to less than half that of their foes. Camp- 
bell's command suffered more than any other, the loss 
among the officers being especially great; for it bore 
the chief part in withstanding the successive bayonet 
charges of the regulars, and the officers had been 
forced to expose themselves with the utmost freedom, 
in order to rally their men when beaten back. 

The mountainmen had done a most notable deed — 
a striking example of the individual initiative so char- 
acteristic of the backwoodsmen. They had shown in 
perfection the best qualities of horse-riflemen. Their 
hardihood and perseverance had enabled them to bear 
up well under fatigue, exposure, and scanty food. 
Their long, swift ride, and the suddenness of the attack, 
took their foes completely by surprise. Then, leaving 
their horses, they had shown in the actual battle such 
courage, marksmanship, and skill in woodland fighting, 
that they had not only defeated but captured an equal 
number of well-armed, well-led, resolute men, in a 
strong position. The victory was of far-reaching im- 
portance, and ranks among the decisive battles of the 
Revolution. It was the first great success of the 
Americans in the south, the turning-point in the south- 
ern campaign, and it brought cheer to the patriots 
throughout the Union. Its immediate effect was to 
cause Cornwallis to retreat from North Carolina, 
abandoning his first invasion of that State. 



140 OTinnins of tfje Wit^t 

The day after the battle the Americans, after bury- 
ing their dead, fell back towards the mountains, fearing 
lest, while cumbered by prisoners and wounded, they 
should be struck by Tarleton. The prisoners were 
marched along on foot, each carrying one or two mus- 
kets, for twelve hundred had been captured. The 
Americans had little to eat; but the plight of the 
prisoners was pitiable. Hungry, footsore, and heart- 
broken, they were hurried along by their victors, who 
gloried in the vengeance they had taken, and recked 
little of magnanimity to the fallen. 

It had come to be common for the victors on both 
sides to hang those whom they regarded as the chief 
offenders among their conquered opponents. As the 
different districts were alternately overrun, the unfortu- 
nate inhabitants were compelled to swear allegiance in 
succession to Congress and to king; and then, on which- 
ever side they bore arms, they were branded as traitors. 
Cornwallis, seconded by Rawdon, had set the example 
of ordering all men found in the rebel ranks after having 
sworn allegiance to the king to be hung; his under- 
of^icers executed the command with zeal, and the 
Americans, of course, retaliated. Ferguson's troops 
themselves had hung some of their prisoners. 

All this was fresh in the minds of the Americans 
who had just won so decisive a victory. Inflamed 
by hatred and the thirst for vengeance, they would 
probably have put to death some of their prisoners 
in any event; but all doubt was at an end when, on 
their return march, they learned that Cruger's victori- 



i&ing's! iflountain, 1780 hi 

ous loyalists had hung a dozen of the captured patriots. 
This news settled the doom of some of the Tory prison- 
ers. A week after the battle thirty were condemned to 
death ; but when nine, including the only Tory colonel 
who had survived the battle, were hung, Sevier and 
Shelby peremptorily interfered, saving the remainder. 

Leaving the prisoners in the hands of the lowland 
militia, the mountaineers returned to their secure 
fastnesses in the high hill-valleys of the Holston, the 
Watauga, and the Nolichucky. They had marched 
well and fought valiantly, and had gained a great 
victory; all the little stockaded forts, all the rough log- 
cabins on the scattered clearings, were jubilant over the 
triumph. From that moment their three leaders were 
men of renown. The legislatures of their respective 
States thanked them publicly, and voted them swords 
for their services. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE HOLSTON SETTLEMENTS TO THE END OF THE 
REVOLUTION, I781-I783 

WHEN the men of the Holston or upper 
Tennessee valley settlements reached their 
homes after the King's Mountain expedi- 
tion, they found them menaced by the Cherokees. A 
constant succession of small bands moved swiftly 
through the county, burning cabins, taking scalps, and, 
above all, stealing horses. As the most effectual way of 
stopping such inroads, the alarmed and angered settlers 
resolved to send a formidable retaliatory expedition 
against the Overhill towns. All the Holston settle- 
ments both north and south of the Virginia line joined 
in sending troops. By the first week in December, 1780, 
they had seven hundred mounted riflemen ready to 
march, under the joint leadership of Colonel Arthur 
Campbell and of Sevier, the former being the senior 
officer. They were to meet at an appointed place on 
the French Broad. 

Sevier, starting first, fell in with an Indian band 
returning from a foray, and, attacking it, took thirteen 
scalps and all their plunder. Having thus made a very 

pretty stroke, he returned to the French Broad, where 

142 



Kf)t J^olfiton S)ettlEmentsi 143 

Campbell joined him on the 22d, with four hundred 
troops. Together they laid waste the country of the 
Overhill Cherokees, burning a thousand cabins, fifty 
thousand bushels of corn, killing twenty-nine warriors, 
and capturing seventeen women and children. 

Before returning, the commanders issued an address 
to the Otari chiefs and warriors, setting forth what the 
white troops had done, telling the Indians it was a just 
punishment for their folly and perfidy in consenting to 
carry out the wishes of the British agents; it warned 
them shortly to come in and treat for peace, lest their 
country should again be visited, and not only laid waste 
but conquered and held for all time. 

Though the success of this expedition gave much 
relief to the border, Sevier determined to try one of his 
swift, sudden strokes against the warriors from the 
middle towns who were coming to the help of their 
disheartened Overhill brethren. Early in March he 
rode off at the head of a hundred and fifty picked 
horsemen. For a hundred and fifty miles he led them 
through a mountainous wilderness where there was not 
so much as a hunter's trail, through the deep defiles 
and among the towering peaks of the Great Smoky 
Mountains, descending by passes so precipitous that it 
was with difficulty the men led down them even such 
sure-footed beasts as their hardy hill-horses. At last 
they burst out of the woods and fell like a thunderbolt 
on the middle towns nestling in their high gorges. 
Falling on their main town, he took it by surprise and 
stormed it, killing thirty warriors and capturing a large 



144 aaainning of tfje OTefit 

number of women and children; he burnt two other 
towns and three small villages, destroying much pro- 
vision and capturing two hundred horses, — all with the 
loss of but one man killed, and one wounded. Before 
the startled warriors could gather to attack him he 
plunged once more into the wilderness, carrying his 
prisoners and plunder, and driving the captured horses 
before him; and so swift were his motions that he got 
back in safety to the settlements. 

In the early summer he made another quick inroad 
south of the French Broad. At the head of over a 
hundred hard riders he fell suddenly on the camp of a 
war party, took a dozen scalps, and scattered the rest 
of the Indians in every direction. A succession of these 
blows completely humbled the Cherokees, and they 
sued for peace; thanks to Sevier's tactics, they had 
suffered more loss than they had inflicted, an almost 
unknown thing in these wars with the forest Indians. 
In midsummer peace was made by a treaty at the 
Great Island of the Holston. 

Early in 1782 fresh difficulties arose with the Indians. 
In the war just ended the Cherokees themselves had 
been chiefly to blame. The whites were now in their 
turn the aggressors, the trouble being that they en- 
croached on lands secured to the red men by solemn 
treaty. Settlements were being made south of the 
French Broad. This alarmed and irritated the Indians 
and they sent repeated remonstrances to Major Martin, 
who was Indian agent, and also to the governor of 
North Carolina. The latter wrote Sevier, directing 



arjje ?|ol£;ton Settlements; 145 

him to drive off the intruding settlers, and pull down 
their cabins. Sevier did not obey. He took purely 
the frontier view of the question, and he had no inten- 
tion of harassing his own staunch adherents for the 
sake of the savages whom he had so often fought. He 
had much justification for his refusal, too, in the fact 
that, when the Americans reconquered the southern 
States, many Tories fled to the Cherokee towns, and 
incited the savages to hostility; and the outlying settle- 
ments of the borderers were being burned and plundered 
by members of the very tribes whose chiefs were at the 
same time writing to the governor to complain of the 
white encroachments. 

The worst members of each race committed crimes 
against the other, and not only did the retaliation 
often fall on the innocent, but, unfortunately, even 
the good men were apt to make common cause with the 
criminals of their own color. Thus in July the Chicka- 
maugas sent in a ''talk'* for peace; but at that very 
time a band of their young braves made a foray into 
Powell's Valley, killing two settlers and driving off 
some stock. They were pursued, one of their number 
killed, and most of the stock retaken. In the same 
month, on the other hand, two friendly Indians, who 
had a canoe laden with peltry, were murdered on the 
Holston by a couple of white ruffians, who then at- 
tempted to sell the furs. They were discovered, and 
the furs taken from them; but the people round about 
would not suffer the criminals to be brought to justice. 

The great majority of the Cherokees of the Overhill 



146 aaiinmns of tfje OTesit 

towns were still desirous of peace, and after a council 
of their head-men the chief, Old Tassel, of the town of 
Chota, sent on their behalf the following strong appeal 
to the governors of both Virginia and North Carolina. 

*'A Talk to Colonel Joseph Martin, by the Old 
Tassel, in Chota, the 25th of September, 1782, in favor 
of the whole nation. For His Excellency, the Gover- 
nor of North Carolina. Present, all the chiefs of the 
friendly towns and a number of young men. 

"Brother: I am now going to speak to you. I hope 
you will listen to me. A string. I intended to come 
this fall and see you, but there was such confusion in 
our country, I thought it best for me to stay at home 
and send my Talks by our friend Colonel Martin, who 
promised to deliver them safe to you. We are a poor 
distressed people, that is in great trouble, and we hope 
our elder brother will take pity on us and do us justice. 
Your people from Nolichucky are daily pushing us 
out of our lands. We have no place to hunt on. Your 
people have built houses within one day's walk of our 
towns. We don't want to quarrel with our elder 
brother; we, therefore, hope our elder brother will not 
take our lands from us, that the Great Man above gave 
us. He made you and he made us; we are all his 
children, and we hope our elder brother will take pity 
on us, and not take our lands from us that our father 
gave us, because he is stronger than we are. We are 
the first people that ever lived on this land; it is ours, 
and why will our elder brother take it from us.? It is 



arjjt J^olsiton Settlements; h7 

true, some time past, the people over the great water 
persuaded some of our young men to do some mischief 
to our elder brother, which our principal men were 
sorry for. But you, our elder brothers, came to our 
towns and took satisfaction, and then sent for us to 
come and treat with you, which we did. Then our 
elder brother promised to have the line run between us 
agreeable to the first treaty, and all that should be 
found over the line should be moved off. But it is not 
done yet. We have done nothing to offend our elder 
brother since the last treaty, and why should our elder 
brother want to quarrel with us .? We have sent to the 
Governor of Virginia on the same subject. We hope 
that between you both, you will take pity on your 
younger brother, and send Colonel Sevier, who is a 
good man, to have all your people moved off our land. 
I should say a great deal more, but our friend. Colonel 
Martin, knows all our grievances, and he can inform 
you. A string."' 

Although no immediate results followed these and 
other efforts for peace, towards the end of 1783 a definite 
peace was concluded with the Chickasaws, who ever 
afterwards remained friendly; but the Creeks and 
Cherokees continued to be a source of annoyance on 
the southern border. Nevertheless, all pressing danger 
from the Indians was over. 

The Holston settlements throve lustily. Wagon 

'The "strings " of wampum were used to mark periods and to indicate, 
and act as reminders of, special points in the speech. 



148 Minmng of tfje OTegt 

roads were made, leading into both Virginia and North 
CaroHna. Settlers thronged into the country, the 
roads were well travelled, and the clearings became 
very numerous. The villages began to feel safe with- 
out stockades, save those on the extreme border, which 
were still built in the usual frontier style. The two 
towns of Abingdon and Jonesboro, respectively north 
and south of the Virginia line, were the centers of 
activity. In Jonesboro the log court-house, with its 
clapboard roof, was abandoned, and in its place a 
twenty-four-foot-square building of hewn logs was put 
up; it had a shingled roof and plank floors, and con- 
tained a justice's bench, a lawyer's and clerk's bar, and 
a sheriff's box to sit in. 

Abingdon was a typical little frontier town of the 
class that immediately succeeded the stockaded hamlets. 
A public square had been laid out, round which, and 
down the straggling main street, the few buildings 
were scattered; all were of logs, from the court-house 
and small jail down. There were three or four taverns. 
There were a blacksmith shop and a couple of stores. 
The traders brought their goods from Alexandria, 
Baltimore, or even Philadelphia, and made a handsome 
profit. The lower taverns were scenes of drunken 
frolic, often ending in free fights. There was no 
constable, and the sheriff, when called to quell a 
disturbance, summoned as a posse those of the bystand- 
ers whom he deemed friendly to the cause of law and 
order. There were many strangers passing through; 
and the better class of these were welcome at the 



arfje Jlolsiton gjettlements; 149 

rambling log-houses of the neighboring backwoods 
gentry, who often themselves rode into the taverns to 
learn from the travelers what was happening in the 
great world beyond the mountains. Court-day was a 
great occasion; all the neighborhood flocked in to 
gossip, lounge, race horses, and fight. Of course in 
such gatherings there were always certain privileged 
characters. At Abingdon these were to be found 
in the persons of a hunter named Edward Callahan, 
and his wife Sukey. As regularly as court-day came 
round, they appeared, Sukey driving a cart laden with 
pies, cakes, and drinkables, while Edward, whose rolls 
of furs and deer hides were also in the cart, stalked at 
its tail on foot, in full hunter's dress, with rifle, powder- 
horn, and bullet-bag, while his fine, well-taught hunt- 
ing dog followed at his heels. Sukey would halt In the 
middle of the street, make an awning for herself and 
begin business, while Edward strolled off to see about 
selling his peltries. Sukey never would take out a 
license, and so was often in trouble for selling liquor. 
The judges were strict in proceeding against offenders 
— and even stricter against the unfortunate Tories — but 
they had a humorous liking for Sukey, which was 
shared by the various grand juries. By means of some 
excuse or other she was always let off, and in return 
showed great gratitude to such of her benefactors as 
came near her mountain cabin. 

Court-day was apt to close with much hard drink- 
ing; for the backwoodsmen of every degree dearly 
loved whisky. 



CHAPTER XV 

ROBERTSON FOUNDS THE CUMBERLAND SETTLEMENT, 

I779-1783 

ROBERTSON had no share in the glory of 
King's Mountain, and no part in the subse- 
quent career of the men who won it ; for the 
man who had done more than any one in founding the 
settlements from which the victors came, had once more 
gone into the' wilderness to build a new and even more 
typical frontier commonwealth, the westernmost of any 
yet founded by the backwoodsmen. 

Robertson had been for ten years a leader among the 
Holston and Watauga people, and for the last two 
years (1777-1779) he was Indian Commissioner for 
North Carolina. He had been particularly successful 
in his dealings with the Indians, and by his missions 
to them had managed to keep the peace unbroken on 
more than one occasion when a war would have been 
disastrous to the whites. He was prosperous and suc- 
cessful in his private affairs; nevertheless, in 1779, the 
restless craving for change and adventure surged so 
strongly in his breast that it once more drove him to 
seek out a new home hundreds of miles farther in the 
heart of the hunting-grounds of the red warriors. 

150 



®fje Cumberlanb Settlement 151 

The point pitched upon was the beautiful country- 
lying along the great bend of the Cumberland, a spot 
well known to hunters since the time when old Kasper 
Mansker and others began their trips thither ten years 
before. Early in the spring of 1779 Robertson had 
left the Watauga settlements with eight companions, 
reaching the Cumberland without mishap, and fixing 
on the neighborhood of the Bluff, the ground near the 
French Lick, as that best suited for their purpose. A 
few days after their arrival they were joined by another 
batch of hunter-settlers who had come out under the 
leadership of Kasper Mansker. 

As soon as the corn was planted and cabins put up, 
most of the intending settlers returned to their old 
homes to bring out their families, leaving three of 
their number '*to keep the buffaloes out of the corn.'' 
Robertson himself first went north through the wilder- 
ness to see George Rogers Clark in Illinois, to purchase 
cabin-rights from him, under the Virginia law which 
gave each man, for a small sum, a thousand acres on 
condition of his building a cabin and raising a crop. 
This journey gives an insight into the motives that 
influenced the adventurers. For though they were 
impelled largely by sheer restlessness and love of 
change, the most powerful spring of action was the 
desire to gain land — not merely land for settlement, but 
land for speculative purposes. At this time it was un- 
certain whether Cumberland lay in Virginia or North 
Carolina, as the line was not run until the following 
spring. As it turned out, Robertson might have 



152 Miinning of tfie OTesit 

spared himself the trip, for the settlement proved to be 
well within the Carolina boundary. 

In the fall many men came out to the new settle- 
ment, guided thither by Robertson and Mansker, 
among them two or three of the Long Hunters whose 
wanderings had done so much to make the country 
known. Robertson's especial partner, a man named 
John Donelson, also came, bringing a large party of 
immigrants, including all the women and children, 
down the Tennessee and thence up the Ohio and 
Cumberland to the Bluff or French Lick. Among 
them were Robertson's entire family, and Donelson's 
daughter Rachel, the future wife of Andrew Jackson, 
who missed by so narrow a margin being mistress of 
the White House. Robertson, meanwhile, led the rest 
of the men by land, so that they should get there first 
and make ready for the coming of their families. 

The expedition led by Donelson embarked at Hol- 
ston. Long Island, on December 22d, but falling water 
and heavy frosts detained them two months, so that 
the voyage did not really begin until February 27, 
1780. The first ten days were uneventful. The 
Adventure, the flag-ship of the flotilla, spent an after- 
noon and night on a shoal, until the water fortunately 
rose, and the clumsy scow floated off. Another boat 
was driven on the point of an island and sunk, her crew 
being nearly drowned; whereupon the rest of the 
flotilla put to shore, the sunken boat was raised and 
bailed out, and most of her cargo recovered. 

They soon came to an Indian village on the south 



l^fje Cumber lanb Settlement 153 

shore. The Indians made signs of friendliness, and 
several canoes then came off from the shore to the 
flotilla. The Indians in them seemed pleased with the 
presents they received; but when a number of other 
canoes put off^, loaded with armed warriors, the whites 
pushed off at once. The armed Indians went down 
along the shore for some time as if to intercept them; 
but at last they were seemingly left behind. 

There was with the flotilla a boat containing twenty- 
eight men, women, and children, among whom small- 
pox had broken out. To guard against infection, it 
was agreed that it should keep well in the rear; being 
warned each night by the sound of a horn when it was 
time to go into camp. As this forlorn boat-load came 
along, Indians of another village, seeing its defenceless 
position, sallied out in their canoes, and butchered or 
captured all who were aboard. Their cries were dis- 
tinctly heard by the rearmost of the other craft, who 
could not stem the current and come to their rescue. 
But a dreadful retribution fell on the Indians; for 
they were infected with the disease of their victims, 
and for some months virulent smallpox raged among 
many of the bands of Creeks and Cherokees. 

When the boats entered the Narrows, they had lost 
sight of the Indians on shore, and thought they had 
left them behind. A man, who was in a canoe, had 
gone aboard one of the larger boats with his family, for 
the sake of safety while passing through the rough 
water. His canoe was towed alongside, and in the 
rapids it was overturned, and the cargo lost. The rest 



154 aiaamning of tfje We^st 

of the company, pitying his distress over the loss of all 
his worldly goods, landed to see if they could not help 
him recover some of his property. Just then the 
Indians suddenly appeared almost over them, on the 
high cliffs opposite, and began to fire, causing a hurried 
retreat to the boats. For some distance the Indians 
lined the bluffs, firing from the heights into the boats 
below. Yet only four people were wounded, and they 
not dangerously. One of them was a girl named Nancy 
Gower. When, by the sudden onslaught of the Indians, 
the crew of the boat which she was in were thrown into 
dismay, she took the helm and steered, exposed to the 
fire of the savages. A ball went through the upper part 
of one of her thighs, but she neither flinched nor uttered 
any cry; and it was not known that she was wounded 
until, after the danger was past, her mother saw the 
blood soaking through her clothes. She recovered, 
married one of the frontiersmen, and lived for fifty years 
afterwards, long enough to see all the wilderness filled 
with flourishing and populous States. 

Having successfully run the gauntlet of the Chicka- 
mauga banditti, the flotilla was not again molested by 
the Indians. They ran over the great Muscle Shoals 
in about three hours without accident. The swift, 
broken water surged into high waves, and roared 
through the piles of driftwood that covered the points 
of the small islands, round which the currents ran in 
every direction; and those among the men who were 
unused to river-work were much relieved when they 
found themselves in safety. 



3rf)e Cumber lanb Settlement 155 

On the 20th of the month they reached the Ohio. 
Some of the boats then left for Natchez, and others for 
the IlHnois country; while the remainder turned their 
prows up stream, to stem the rapid current of the Ohio 
— a task for which they were but ill-suited. The work 
was very hard, the provisions were nearly gone, and the 
crews were almost worn out by hunger and fatigue. 
On the 24th of March they entered the mouth of the 
Cumberland. The Adventure, the heaviest of all the 
craft, got much help from a small square sail that was 
set in the bow. But it was not until April 24th that 
they reached the Big Salt Lick, and found Robertson 
awaiting them. The long, toilsome, and perilous voy- 
age had been brought to a safe end. 

There were then probably nearly five hundred settlers 
on the Cumberland, one half of them being able-bodied 
men in the prime of life. The central station, the capi- 
tal of the little community, was that at the Bluff, where 
Robertson built a little stockaded hamlet and called it 
Nashborough. Among the other Cumberland stations 
was Mansker's (usually called Kasper^s), Stone River, 
Bledsoe's, Freeland's, Eatons', Clover-Bottom, and 
Fort Union. 

True to their customs and traditions, and to their 
race-capacity for self-rule, the settlers determined forth- 
with to organize some kind of government under which 
justice might be done among themselves and protection 
afforded against outside attack. Not only had the 
Indians begun their ravages, but turbulent and dis- 
orderly whites where also causing trouble. Robertson, 



156 OTinnmg: of tfje Wiesit 

who had been so largely instrumental in founding the 
Watauga settlement, and in giving it laws, naturally 
took the lead in organizing this, the second community 
which he had caused to spring up in the wilderness. 

The settlers, by their representatives, met together at 
Nashborough, and on May i, 1780, entered into articles 
of agreement or a compact of government. It was 
doubtless drawn up by Robertson, with perhaps the 
help of Henderson, and was modelled upon what may 
be called the "constitution" of Watauga, with some 
hints from that of Transylvania. The settlers ratified 
the deeds of their delegates on May 13th, when to the 
number of two hundred and fifty-six men they signed 
the articles. The signers practically guaranteed one 
another their rights in the land, and their personal 
security against wrong-doers; those who did not sign 
were treated as having no rights whatever — a proper 
and necessary measure, as it was essential that the natu- 
rally lawless elements should be forced to acknowledge 
some kind of authority. 

The compact provided that the affairs of the com- 
munity should be administered by a Court of twelve 
Judges, or Triers, to be elected in the different stations 
by vote of all the freemen in them who were over 
twenty-one years of age, three to come from Nash- 
borough, two from Mansker's, two from Bledsoe's, and 
one from each of five other named stations. The 
Court had jurisdiction in all cases of conflict over land 
titles, for the recovery of debt or damages, and was 
allowed to tax costs. The Court appointed whomso- 



VLi}t Cumberlanb Settlement 157 

ever it pleased to see decisions executed. It had power 
to punish all offences against the peace of the commu- 
nity, all misdemeanors and criminal acts, provided only 
that its decisions did not go so far as to affect the life of 
the criminal. If the misdeed of the accused was such as 
to be dangerous to the State, or one **for which the bene- 
fit of clergy was taken away by law," he was to be bound 
and sent under guard to some place where he could be 
legally dealt with. In this and various ways a little com- 
monwealth, a self-governing state, was created on the 
banks of the Cumberland as a temporary method of re- 
straining the evil-disposed until the State should give 
the little community some legal form of government. 

For several years after their arrival the Cumberland 
settlers were worried beyond description by a succes- 
sion of small war parties. In 1781 they raised no corn; 
in the next they made a few crops on fields they had 
cleared In 1780. Many of the settlers were killed, many 
others left for Kentucky, Illinois, or Natchez, or re- 
turned to their old homes among the AUeghanies; and 
in 1782 the inhabitants, who had steadily dwindled in 
numbers, became so discouraged that they mooted the 
question of abandoning the Cumberland district in a 
body. Only Robertson's great influence prevented this 
being done; but by word and example he finally per- 
suaded them to remain. The following spring brought 
the news of peace with Great Britain. A large inflow of 
new settlers began with the new year; the Cumberland 
country throve apace; and by the end of 1783 the old 
stations had been rebuilt and many new ones founded. 



CHAPTER XVI 

WHAT THE WESTERNERS HAD DONE DURING THE REVO- 
LUTION, 1783 

WHEN the first Continental Congress began 
its sittings, the only frontiersmen west of 
the mountains, and beyond the limits of 
continuous settlement within the old Thirteen Colonies, 
were the two or three hundred citizens of the little 
Watauga commonwealth. When peace was declared 
with Great Britain, the backwoodsmen had spread 
westward, in groups, almost to the Mississippi, and 
they had increased in number to some twenty-five 
thousand souls, of whom a few hundred dwelt in the 
bend of the Cumberland, while the rest were about 
equally divided between Kentucky and Holston. 

This great westward movement of armed settlers was 
essentially one of conquest, no less than of colonization. 
Thronging in with their wives and children, their 
cattle, and their few household goods they won and held 
the land in the teeth of fierce resistance, both from the 
Indian claimants of the soil and from the represent- 
atives of a mighty and arrogant European power. The 
chain of events by which the winning was achieved is 
perfect; had any link therein snapped, it is likely that 

158 



Wit^ttvntv^ in tfje l^ebolution 159 

the final results would have been failure. The wide 
wanderings of Boone and his fellow-hunters made the 
country known, and awakened in the minds of the 
frontiersmen a keen desire to possess it. The building 
of the Watauga commonwealth by Robertson and 
Sevier gave a base of operations, and furnished a model 
for similar communities to follow. Lord Dunmore's 
war made the actual settlement possible, for it cowed 
the northern Indians, and restrained them from seri- 
ously molesting Kentucky during its first and more 
feeble years. Henderson and Boone made their great 
treaty with the Cherokees in 1775, and then established 
a permanent colony far beyond all previous settlements, 
entering into final possession of the new country. The 
victory over the Cherokees in 1776 made safe the line of 
communication along the Wilderness Road, and secured 
the chance for further expansion. Clark's campaigns 
gained the Illinois, or northwestern regions. The 
growth of Kentucky then became very rapid ; and in its 
turn this, and the steady progress of the Watauga 
settlements, rendered possible Robertson's successful 
efi^ort to plant a new community still farther west, on 
the Cumberland. 

The backwoodsmen pressed in on the line of least 
resistance, first taking possession of the debatable 
hunting-grounds lying between the Algonquins of the 
North and the Appalachian confederacies of the South. 
Then they began to encroach on the actual tribal 
territories. Every step was accompanied by stubborn 
and bloody fighting with the Indians. The forest tribes 



i6o aaiinmns of tfje W^t^t 

were exceedingly formidable opponents; it is not too 
much to say that they formed a far more serious ob- 
stacle to the American advance than would have been 
offered by an equal number of the best European troops. 
Their victories over Braddock, Grant, and St. Clair, 
gained in each case with a smaller force, conclusively 
proved their superiority, on their own ground, over the 
best regulars, disciplined and commanded in the ordi- 
nary manner. Almost all of the victories, even of the 
backwoodsmen, were won against inferior numbers of 
Indians. The red men were fickle of temper, and large 
bodies could not be kept together for a long campaign, 
nor, indeed, for more than one special stroke; the only 
piece of strategy any of their chiefs showed was Corn- 
stalk's march past Dunmore to attack Lewis; but their 
tactics and discipline in the battle itself were admirably 
adapted to the very peculiar conditions of forest war- 
fare. Writers who speak of them as undisciplined, or as 
any but most redoubtable antagonists, fall into an 
absurd error. An old Indian fighter, who, at the close 
of the last century, wrote, from experience, a good book 
on the subject, summed up the case very justly when he 
said: **I apprehend that the Indian discipline is as well 
calculated to answer the purpose in the woods of 
America as the British discipline is in Flanders; and 
British discipline in the woods is the way to have men 
slaughtered, with scarcely any chance of defending 
themselves." A comparison of the two victories gained 
by the backwoodsmen at the Great Kanawha, over' the 
Indians, and at King's Mountain over Ferguson's 



i9vi5I oijrfO siij- no ilooil m-svBD 




At opponents- 



Uave been 



Cave-in Rock on the Ohio River 

From an engraving by Charles Bodmer 



:-.n 



e in the woods of 

^"landers; and 

en 

defending 

o victories gained 

• er* the 

erguson*s 




'■■'■•-r-«M; 



®lles!terners; in tfje l^ebolution i6i 

British and Tories — brings out clearly the formidable 
fighting capacity of the red men. At the Kanawha 
the Americans outnumbered their foes, at King's 
Mountain they were no more than equal; yet in the 
former battle they suffered twice the loss they did in 
the latter, inflicted much less damage in return, and did 
not gain nearly so decisive a victory. 

The Indians were urged on by the British, v/ho 
furnished them with arms, ammunition, and provisions, 
and sometimes also with leaders and with bands of 
auxiliary white troops, French, British, and Tories. 
It was this that gave to the Revolutionary contest its 
twofold character, making it on the part of the Ameri- 
cans a struggle for independence in the East, and in the 
West a war of conquest, or rather a war to establish, on 
behalf of all our people, the right of entry into the fertile 
and vacant regions beyond the Alleghanies. The griev- 
ances of the backwoodsmen were not the same as the 
grievances of the men of the seacoast. 

The Ohio valley and the other Western lands of the 
French had been conquered by the British, not the 
Americans. Great Britain had succeeded to the policy 
as well as the possessions of her predecessor, and, 
strange to say, had become almost equally hostile to 
the colonists of her own stock. As France had striven 
for half a century, so England now in her turn strove, to 
bar out the settlers of English race from the country 
beyond the Alleghanies. The British Crown, Parlia- 
ment, and people were a unit in wishing to keep wood- 
land and prairie for the sole use of their own merchants, 



i62 Winning: of tfie OTieiSt 

as regions tenanted only by Indian hunters and French 
trappers and traders. They became the guardians and 
alHes of all the Indian tribes. On the other hand, the 
American backwoodsmen were resolute in their deter- 
mination to go in and possess the land. The aims of the 
two sides thus clashed hopelessly. Under all temporary 
and apparent grounds of quarrel lay this deep-rooted 
jealousy and incompatibility of interests. Beyond the 
Alleghanies the Revolution was fundamentally a strug- 
gle between England, bent on restricting the growth of 
the English race, and the Americans, triumphantly deter- 
mined to acquire the right to conquer the continent. 

Had not the backwoodsmen been successful in the 
various phases of the struggle, we would certainly have 
been cooped up between the sea and the mountains. 
If in 1774 and '76 they had been beaten by the Ohio 
tribes and the Cherokees, the border ravaged, and the 
settlements stopped or forced back as during what the 
colonists called Braddock's War, there is every reason 
to believe that the Alleghanies would have become our 
western frontier. Similarly, if Clark had failed in his 
efforts to conquer and hold the Illinois and Vincennes, it 
is overwhelmingly probable that the Ohio would have 
been the boundary between the Americans and the Brit- 
ish. Before the Revolution began in 1774, the British 
Parliament had, by the Quebec Act, declared the 
country between the Great Lakes and the Ohio to be 
part of Canada; and under the provisions of this act the 
British officers continued to do as they had already done 
— that is, to hold adverse possession of the land, scornfully 



3B!Ees;tcrners( in tfje l^ebolution 163 

heedless of the claims of the different colonies. The 
country was de facto part of Canada; the Americans 
tried to conquer it exactly as they tried to conquer the 
rest of Canada; the only difference was that Clark 
succeeded, whereas Arnold and Montgomery failed. 

Of course, the conquest by the backwoodsmen was 
by no means the sole cause of our acquisition of the 
West. The sufferings and victories of the Westerners 
would have counted for nothing had it not been for the 
success of the American arms in the East, and for the 
skill of our three treaty-makers at Paris — Jay, Adams, 
and Franklin, but above all the two former, and espe- 
cially Jay. On the other hand, it was the actual occu- 
pation and holding of the country that gave our diplo- 
mats their vantage-ground. When the treaty was made, 
in 1782, the commissioners of the United States repre- 
sented a people already holding the whole Ohio valley, 
as well as the Illinois The circumstances of the treaty 
were peculiar; but here they need to be touched but 
briefly, and only so far as they affected the western 
boundaries. The United States, acting together with 
France and Spain, had just closed a successful war with 
England; but when the peace negotiations were begun, 
they speedily found that their allies were, if anything, 
more anxious than their enemy to hamper their growth. 
England, having conceded the grand point of independ- 
ence, was disposed to be generous, and not to haggle 
about lesser matters. Spain, on the contrary, was quite 
as hostile to the new nation as to England. Through 
her representative, Count Aranda, she predicted the 



i64 «innmg of tfte OTesit 

future enormous expansion of the Federal Republic at 
the expense of Florida, Louisiana, and Mexico, unless it 
was effectually curbed in its youth. The prophecy has 
been strikingly fulfilled, and the event has thoroughly 
justified Spain's fear; for the major part of the present 
territory of the United States was under Spanish do- 
minion at the close of the Revolutionary War. Spain, 
therefore, proposed to hem in our growth by giving us 
the Alleghanies for our western boundary. France was 
the ally of America; but as between America and Spain, 
she favored the latter. Moreover, she wished us to 
remain weak enough to be dependent upon her further 
good graces. The French court, therefore, proposed 
that the United States should content themselves with 
so much of the trans-Alleghany territory as lay round 
the headwaters of the Tennessee and between the 
Cumberland and Ohio. This area contained the bulk of 
the land that was already settled; and the proposal 
showed how important the French court deemed the 
fact of actual settlement. 

Thus the two allies of America were hostile to her 
interests. The open foe, England, on the contrary, was 
anxious to conclude a separate treaty, so that she might 
herself be in a better condition to carry on negotiations 
with France and Spain; she cared much less to keep the 
West than she did to keep Gibraltar, and an agreement 
with the United States about the former left her free to 
insist on the retention of the latter. Congress, in a 
spirit of slavish subserviency, had instructed the Ameri- 
can commissioners to take no steps without the knowl- 



OTiesitErners! in tfje IRebolution 165 

edge and advice of fVance. Frankjin was inclined to 
obey these instructions; but Jay, supported by Adams, 
boldly insisted on disregarding them; and, accordingly, 
a separate treaty was negotiated with England. In set- 
tling the claims to the western territory, much stress 
was laid on the old colonial charters; but underneath 
all the verbiage it was practically admitted that these 
charters conferred merely inchoate rights, which became 
complete only after conquest and settlement. The 
States themselves had already by their actions shown 
that they admitted this to be the case. Thus North 
Carolina, when by the creation of Washington County 
— now the State of Tennessee — she rounded out her 
boundaries, specified them as running to the Mississippi. 
As a matter of fact, the royal grant under which alone 
she could claim the land in question, extended to the 
Pacific; and the only difference between her rights to 
the regions east and west of the river was that her 
people were settling in one, and could not settle in the 
other. The same was true of Kentucky, and of the 
West generally; if the States could rightfully claim 
to run to the Mississippi, they could also rightfully 
claim to run to the Pacific. The colonial charters were 
all very well as furnishing color of title ; but at bottom 
the American claim rested on the peculiar kind of 
colonizing conquest so successfully carried on by the 
backwoodsmen. When the English took New Amster- 
dam they claimed it under old charters ; but they very 
well knew that their real right was only that of the 
strong hand. It was precisely so with the Americans 



i66 OTinnins of tfje Wesit 

and the Ohio valley. They produced old charters to 
support their title; but in reality it rested on Clark's 
conquests and above all on the advance of the back- 
woods settlements. 

This view of the case is amply confirmed by a con- 
sideration of what was actually acquired under the 
treaty of peace which closed the Revolutionary struggle. 
Map-makers down to the present day have almost 
invariably misrepresented the territorial limits we 
gained by this treaty. They represent our limits in the 
West in 1783 as being the Great Lakes, the Mississippi, 
and the 31st parallel of latitude from the Mississippi 
to the Chattahoochee; but in reality we did not ac- 
quire these limits until a dozen years later, by the 
treaties of Jay and Pinckney. Two points must be kept 
in mind: first, that during the war our ally, Spain, had 
conquered from England that portion of the Gulf coast 
known as West Florida; and, second, that when the 
treaty was made the United States and Great Britain 
mutually covenanted to do certain things, some of 
which were never done. Great Britain agreed to recog- 
nize the lakes as our northern boundary, but, on the 
alleged ground that we did not fulfill certain of our 
promises, she declined to fulfill this agreement, and the 
lake posts remained in her hands until the Jay treaty 
was ratified. She likewise consented to recognize the 
31st parallel as our southern boundary, but, by a secret 
article, it was agreed that if by the negotiations she 
recovered West Florida, then the boundary should run 
about a hundred miles farther north, ending at the 



Wit^ttvntvi in tfjE i^Ebolution 167 

mouth of the Yazoo. The discovery of this secret 
article aroused great indignation in Spain. As a 
matter of fact, the disputed territory, the land drained 
by the Gulf rivers, was not England's to grant, for it 
had been conquered and was then held by Spain. Nor 
was it given up to us until we acquired it by Pinckney's 
masterly diplomacy. The treaty represented a mere 
promise, which in part was not, and in part could not 
be, fulfilled. All that it really did was to guarantee 
us what we already possessed — that is, the Ohio valley 
and the Illinois, which we had settled and conquered 
during the years of warfare. Our boundary lines were 
in reality left very vague. On the north, the basin of 
the Great Lakes remained British; on the south, the 
lands draining into the Gulf remained Spanish, or under 
Spanish influence. The actual boundaries we acquired 
can be roughly stated, in the north, to have followed the 
divide between the waters of the lakes and the waters of 
the Ohio, and, in the south, to have run across the heads 
of the Gulf rivers. Had we remained a loose confedera- 
tion, these boundaries would more probably have shrunk 
than advanced; we did not overleap them until some 
years after Washington had become the head of a real, 
not merely a titular, nation. The peace of 1783, as far 
as our western limits were affected, did nothing more 
than secure us undisturbed possession of lands from which 
it had proved impossible to oust us. We were in real- 
ity given nothing more than we had by our own prowess 
gained ; the inference is strong that we got what we did 
get only because we had won and held it. 



i68 OTinmng of tfje Mesit 

The first duty of the backwoodsmen who thus con- 
quered the West was to institute civil government. 
Their efforts to overcome and beat back the Indians 
went hand-in-hand with their efforts to introduce law 
and order in the primitive communities they founded; 
and as exactly as they relied purely on themselves in 
withstanding outside foes, so they likewise built up their 
social life and their first systems of government with 
reference simply to their special needs, and without 
any outside help or direction. The whole character of 
the westward movement, the methods of warfare, of 
settlement and government, were determined by the 
extreme and defiant individualism of the backwoods- 
men, their inborn independence and self-reliance, and 
their intensely democratic spirit. The West was won 
and settled by a number of groups of men, all acting 
independently of one another, but with a common 
object, and at about the same time. There was no one 
controlling spirit; it was essentially the movement of a 
whole free people, not of a single master-mind. There 
were strong and able leaders, who showed themselves 
fearless soldiers and just law-givers, undaunted by 
danger, resolute to persevere in the teeth of disaster; 
but even these leaders are most deeply interesting 
because they stand foremost among a host of others like 
them. There were hundreds of hunters and Indian 
fighters like Mansker, Wetzel, Kenton, and Brady; 
there were scores of commonwealth founders like Logan, 
Todd, Floyd, and Harrod; there were many adventurous 
land-speculators like Henderson; there were even plenty 



Witsitttntvsi in tfje 3^ebolution 169 

of commanders like Shelby and Campbell. These 
were all men of mark ; some of them exercised a power- 
ful and honorable influence on the course of events in the 
West. Above them rise four greater figures, fit to be 
called not merely State or local, but national heroes. 
Clark, Sevier, Robertson, and Boone are emphatically 
American worthies. They were men of might in their 
day, born to sway the minds of others, helpful in shap- 
ing the destiny of the continent. Yet of Clark alone 
can it be said that he did a particular piece of work 
which without him would have remained undone. 
Sevier, Robertson, and Boone only hastened, and did 
more perfectly, a work which would have been done by 
others had they themselves fallen by the wayside. 
Important though they are for their own sakes, they 
are still more important as types of the men who 
surrounded them. 

The individualism of the backwoodsmen, however, 
was tempered by a sound common sense, and capacity 
for combination. The first hunters might come alone 
or in couples, but the actual colonization was done not 
by individuals, but by groups of individuals. The 
settlers brought their families and belongings, either 
on pack-horses along the forest trails, or in scows down 
the streams; they settled in palisaded villages, and 
immediately took steps to provide both a civil and 
military organization. They were men of facts, not 
theories; and they showed their usual hard common 
sense in making a government. They did not try 
to invent a new system; they simply took that under 



I70 'mimm of tfje OTiesit 

which they had grown up, and appHed it to their altered 
conditions. They were most famiHar with the govern- 
ment of the county; and therefore they adopted this for 
the framework of their Httle independent, self-govern- 
ing commonwealths of Watauga, Cumberland, and 
Transylvania. 

They were also familiar with the representative sys- 
tem; and accordingly they introduced it into the new 
communities, the little forted villages serving as natural 
units of representation. They were already thoroughly 
democratic, in instinct and principle, and, as a matter of 
course, they made the offices elective and gave full play 
to the majority. In organizing the militia they kept 
the old system of county lieutenants, making them 
elective, not appointive; and they organized the men on 
the basis of a regiment, the companies representing 
territorial divisions, each commanded by its own 
officers, who were thus chosen by the fighting men of 
the fort or forts in their respective districts. Thus each 
of the backwoods commonwealths, during its short- 
lived term of absolute freedom, reproduced as its 
governmental system that of the old colonial county, 
increasing the powers of the court, and changing the 
justices into the elective representatives of an absolute 
democracy. The civil head, the chairman of the court 
or committee, was also usually the military head, the 
colonel-commandant. In fact, the military side of the 
organization rapidly became the most conspicuous and, 
at least, in certain crises, the most important. There 
were always some years of desperate warfare during 



Witsittvntvi in tfje l^ebolution 171 

which the entire strength of the little commonwealth 
was drawn on to resist outside aggression, and during 
these years the chief function of government was to 
provide for the griping military needs of the community, 
and the one pressing duty of its chief was to lead his 
followers with valor and wisdom in the struggle with 
the stranger. 

These little communities were extremely independent 
in feeling, not only of the Federal Government, but of 
their parent States, and even of one another. They 
had won their positions by their own courage and hardi- 
hood; very few State troops and hardly a Continental 
soldier had appeared west of the Alleghanies. They 
had heartily sympathized with their several mother 
colonies when they became the United States, and had 
manfully played their part in the Revolutionary War. 
Moreover, they were united among themselves by ties 
of good-will and of services mutually rendered. Ken- 
tucky, for instance, had been succored more than once 
by troops raised among the Watauga Carolinians or the 
Holston Virginians, and in her turn she had sent needed 
supplies to the Cumberland. But when the strain of 
the war was over the separatist spirit asserted itself 
very strongly. The groups of western settlements not 
only looked on the Union itself very coldly, but they 
were also more or less actively hostile to their parent 
States, and regarded even one another as foreign com- 
munities; they considered the Confederation as being 
literally only a lax league of friendship. 

Up to the close of the Revolutionary contest the 



172 WHimm of tfje WHt^t 

settlers who were building homes and States beyond 
the Alleghanies formed a homogeneous backwoods 
population. The woodchoppers, game-hunters, and 
Indian fighters, who dressed and lived alike, were the 
typical pioneers. They were a shifting people. In 
every settlement the tide ebbed and flowed. Some of 
the newcomers would be beaten in the hard struggle for 
existence, and would drift back to whence they had 
come. Of those who succeeded, some would take root 
in the land, and others would move still farther into the 
wilderness. Thus each generation rolled westward, 
leaving its children at the point where the wave stopped 
no less than at that where it started. The descendants 
of the victors of King's Mountain are as likely to be 
found in the Rockies as in the Alleghanies. 

With the close of the war came an enormous increase 
in the tide of immigration ; and many of the newcomers 
were of a very diff^erent stamp from their predecessors. 
The main current flowed towards Kentucky, and gave 
an entirely different character to its population. The 
two typical figures in Kentucky so far had been Clark 
and Boone, but after the close of the Revolution both of 
them sank into unimportance, whereas the careers of 
Sevier and Robertson had only begun. The disappear- 
ance of the two former from active life was partly 
accidental and partly a resultant of the forces that 
assimilated Kentucky so much more rapidly than 
Tennessee to the conditions prevailing in the old States. 
Kentucky was the best known and the most accessible 
of the western regions; within her own borders she was 



WHt^ttvntv^ in tfie l^ebolution 173 

now comparatively safe from serious Indian invasion, 
and the tide of immigration naturally flowed thither. 
So strong was the current that, within a dozen years, it 
had completely swamped the original settlers, and had 
changed Kentucky from a peculiar pioneer and back- 
woods commonwealth into a State diff^ering no more 
from Virginia, Pennsylvania, and North Carolina than 
these difi^ered from one another. 

The men who gave the tone to this great flood of 
newcomers were the gentry from the seacoast country, 
the planters, the young lawyers, the men of means who 
had been impoverished by the long-continued and 
harassing civil war. Straitened in circumstances, desir- 
ous of winning back wealth and position, they cast 
longing eyes towards the beautiful and fertile country 
beyond the mountains, deeming it a place that afi^orded 
unusual opportunities to the man with capital, no less 
than to him whose sole trust was in his own adventurous 
energy. 

Most of the gentlefolk in Virginia and the Carolinas, 
the men who lived in great roomy houses on their 
well-stocked and slave-tilled plantations, had been 
forced to struggle hard to keep their heads above water 
during the Revolution. They loyally supported the 
government, with blood and money; and at the same 
time they endeavored to save some of their property 
from the general wreck, and to fittingly educate their 
girls, and those of their boys who were too young to be 
in the army. The men of this stamp who now prepared 
to cast in their lot with the new communities formed an 



174 Minnins of tfje Wit^t 

exceptionally valuable class of immigrants ; they con- 
tributed the very qualities of which the raw settlements 
stood most in need. They had suffered for no fault of 
their own ; fate had gone hard with them. The fathers 
had been in the Federal or Provincial congresses; the 
older sons had served in the Continental line or in the 
militia. The plantations were occasionally overrun 
by the enemy; and the general disorder had completed 
their ruin. Nevertheless, the heads of the families had 
striven to send the younger sons to school or college. 
For their daughters they did even more; and throughout 
the contest, even in its darkest hours, they sent them 
down to receive the final touches of a ladylike edu- 
cation at some one of the State capitals not at the 
moment in the hands of the enemy — such as Charleston 
or Philadelphia. There the young ladies were taught 
dancing and music, for which, as well as for their frocks 
and "pink calamanco shoes," their fathers paid enor- 
mous sums in depreciated Continental currency. 

Even the close of active hostilities, when the British 
were driven from the Southern States, brought at first 
but a slight betterment of condition to the struggling 
people. There was no cash in the land, the paper 
currency was nearly worthless, everyone was heavily 
in debt, and no one was able to collect what was owing 
to him. There was much mob violence, and a general 
relaxation of the bonds of law and order. Even nature 
turned hostile; a terrible drought shrunk up all the 
streams until they could not turn the grist-mills, while 
from the same cause the crops failed almost completely. 



Mesiterners; in tfje l^ebolution 175 

A hard winter followed, and many cattle and hogs died ; 
so that the well-to-do were brought to the verge of 
bankruptcy and the poor suffered extreme privations, 
being forced to go fifty or sixty miles to purchase small 
quantities of meal and grain at exorbitant prices. 

This distress at home inclined many people of means 
and ambition to try their fortunes in the West; while 
another and equally powerful motive was the desire to 
secure great tracts of virgin lands, for possession or 
speculation Many distinguished soldiers had been re- 
warded by successive warrants for unoccupied land, 
which they entered wherever they chose, until they 
could claim thousands upon thousands of acres. Some- 
times they sold these warrants to outsiders; but whether 
they remained in the hands of the original holders or 
not, they served as a great stimulus to the westward 
movement, and drew many of the representatives of the 
wealthiest and most influential families in the parent 
States to the lands on the farther side of the mountains. 

At the close of the Revolution, however, the men from 
the seacoast region formed but an insignificant portion 
of the Western pioneers. The country beyond the 
Alleghanies was first won and settled by the backwoods- 
men themselves, acting under their own leaders, obey- 
ing their own desires, and following their own methods. 
They were a marked and peculiar people. The good 
and evil traits in their character were such as naturally 
belonged to a strong, harsh, and homely race, which, 
with all its shortcomings, was nevertheless bringing a 
tremendous work to a triumphant conclusion. The 



176 OTinning of tfje Wit^t 

backwoodsmen were above all things characteristically 
American; and it is fitting that the two greatest and 
most typical of all Americans should have been re- 
spectively a sharer and an outcome of their work. 
Washington himself passed the most important years 
of his youth heading the westward movement of his 
people; clad in the traditional dress of the backwoods- 
men, in tasselled hunting-shirt and fringed leggings, he 
led them to battle against the French and Indians, and 
helped to clear the way for the American advance. The 
only other man who, in the American roll of honor, 
stands by the side of Washington was born when the 
distinctive work of the pioneers had ended; and yet he 
was bone of their bone and flesh of their flesh; for from 
the loins of this gaunt frontier folk sprang mighty 
Abraham Lincoln. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE INRUSH OF SETTLERS, I784-I787 

AT the beginning of 1784 peace was a definite 
fact, and the United States had become one 
among the nations of the earth; a nation 
young and lusty in her youth, but as yet loosely knit, 
and formidable in promise rather than in actual ca- 
pacity for performance. 

On the western frontier lay vast and fertile vacant 
spaces; for the Americans had barely passed the thresh- 
old of the continent predestined to be the inheritance 
of their children and their children's children. For 
generations the great feature in the nation's history, 
next only to the preservation of its national life, was to 
be its westward growth; and its distinguishing work 
was to be the settlement of the immense wilderness 
which stretched across to the Pacific. But before the 
land could be settled it had to be won. 

The valley of the Ohio already belonged to the Ameri- 
cans by right of conquest and of armed possession. 
North and south of the valley lay warlike and powerful 
Indian confederacies, now at last thoroughly alarmed 
and angered by the white advance; while behind these 
warrior tribes, urging them to hostility, and furnishing 

177 



178 OTinning of tfie MesJt 

them the weapons and means wherewith to fight, stood 
the representatives of two great European nations, both 
bitterly hostile to the new America. The Briton and 
the Spaniard opposed the American settler precisel}'' as 
the Frenchman had done before them, in the interests 
of their own merchants and fur-traders. 

All the ports around the Great Lakes were held by 
the British; their officers, military and civil, adminis- 
tering the government of the scattered French hamlets, 
and preserving their old-time relations with the Indian 
tribes, whom they continued to treat as allies. To the 
south and west the Spaniards played the same part, 
scornfully refusing to heed the boundary established to 
the southward by the treaty between England and the 
United States, alleging that the former had ceded what 
it did not possess. They claimed the land as theirs by 
right of conquest. The territory which they controlled 
stretched from Florida along a vaguely defined bound- 
ary to the Mississippi, up the east bank of the latter at 
least to the Chickasaw Bluffs, and thence up the west 
bank; while the Creeks and Choctaws were under their 
influence. 

Thus there were foes, both white and red, to be over- 
come, either by force of arms or by diplomacy, before 
the northernmost and the southernmost portions of the 
wilderness lying on our western border could be thrown 
open to settlement. 

With the ending of the Revolutionary War the rush 
of settlers to these western lands assumed striking pro- 
portions. All men who deemed that they could swim 



ar:f)e 3nrusif) of Settlers;, 1 784-1 7S7 179 

in troubled waters were drawn towards the new coun- 
try. The more turbulent and ambitious spirits saw 
roads to distinction in frontier warfare, politics, and 
diplomacy. Merchants dreamed of many fortunate 
ventures, in connection with the river trade or the 
overland commerce by pack-train. Lawyers not only 
expected to make their living by their proper calling, 
but also to rise to the first places in the commonwealths, 
for in these new communities, as in the older States, 
the law was then the most honored of the professions, 
and that which most surely led to high social and 
political standing. But the one great attraction for all 
classes was the chance of procuring large quantities of 
fertile land at low prices. 

The great growth of the West took place in Ken- 
tucky. The Kentucky country was by far the most 
widely renowned for its fertility; it was much more 
accessible and more firmly held, and its government was 
on a more permanent footing than was the case in the 
Wabash, Illinois, and Cumberland regions. In con- 
sequence the majority of the men who went West to 
build homes fixed their eyes on the vigorous young 
community which lay south of the Ohio, and which 
already aspired to the honors of statehood. 

The immigrants came into Kentucky in two streams, 
following two difi^erent routes — the Ohio River, and 
Boone's old Wilderness Trail. Those who came over- 
land, along the latter road, were much fewer in number 
than those who came by water; and yet they were so 
numerous that the trail at times was almost thronged. 



i8o OTinning of tfje Wit^t 

They struggled over the narrow, ill-made roads which 
led from the different back settlements, until they came 
to the last outposts of civilization east of the Cumber- 
land Mountains; scattered block-houses, whose owners 
were by turns farmers, tavern-keepers, hunters, and 
Indian fighters. Here they usually waited until a suf- 
ficient number had gathered together to furnish a band 
of riflemen, and then set off to traverse by slow stages 
the mountains and vast forests which lay between 
them and the nearest Kentucky station. The time of 
the journey depended, of course, upon the composition 
of the traveling party, and upon the mishaps encoun- 
tered; a party of young men on good horses might do it 
in three days, while a large band of immigrants, who 
were hampered by women, children, and cattle, and 
dogged by ill-luck, might take three weeks. Ordinarily 
six or eight days were sufficient. Even when undis- 
turbed by Indians, the trip was accompanied by much 
fatigue and exposure; and, as always in frontier travel- 
ing, one of the perpetual annoyances was the necessity 
for hunting up strayed horses. 

The chief highway, however, was the Ohio River; 
for to drift down stream in a scow was easier and 
quicker, and no more dangerous, than to plod through 
thick mountain forests. Moreover, it was much easier 
for the settler who went by water to carry with him his 
household goods and implements of husbandry, and 
even such cumbrous articles as wagons, or, if he was 
rich and ambitious, the lumber wherewith to build a 
frame house. All kinds of craft were used, even bark 



Ktt 3nrus!f) of g)ettlers(, 1784-1787 



I8l 



canoes and pirogues, or dugouts; but the flat-bottomed 
scow with square ends was the ordinary means of con- 
veyance. They were of all sizes. The passengers and 
their live stock were of course huddled together so as 
to take up as little room as possible. Sometimes the 
immigrants built or bought their own boat, navigated 
it themselves, and sold it or broke it up on reaching 
their destination. At other times they merely hired a 
passage. A few of the more enterprising boat owners 
speedily introduced a regular immigrant service, making 
trips at stated times from Pittsburg, and advertising the 
carriage capacity of their boats and the times of start- 
ing. The trip from Pittsburg to Louisville took a week 
or ten days; but in low water it might last a month. 

The number of boats passing down the Ohio, laden 
with would-be settlers and their belongings, speedily 
became very great. An eye-witness stated that be- 
tween November 13th and December 22d, of 1785, 
thirty-nine boats, with an average of ten persons in 
each, went down the Ohio to the Falls. As time went 
on, the number of immigrants increased until in the 
year ending in November, 1788, 967 boats, carrying 
18,370 persons, with 7986 horses, 2372 cows, mo sheep, 
and 646 wagons, went down the Ohio. 

There are no means of procuring similar figures for 
the number of immigrants who went over the Wilder- 
ness Road but probably there were not half as many 
as went down the Ohio. Perhaps from ten to twenty 
thousand people a year came into Kentucky during the 
period immediately succeeding the close of the Revolu- 



i82 Wiimm of tlje OTesst 

tion; but the net gain to the population was much less, 
because there was always a smaller, but almost equally 
steady, counter-flow of men who, having failed as pio- 
neers, were struggling wearily back toward their 
deserted eastern homes. In 1785 the population was 
estimated at from twenty to thirty thousand; and the 
leading towns, Louisville, Lexington, Harrodsburg, 
Boonsboro, St. Asaph's, were thriving little hamlets, 
with stores and horse grist-mills, and no longer mere 
clusters of stockaded cabins. 

The newcomers were mainly Americans from all the 
States of the Union; but there were also a few people 
from nearly every country in Europe, and even from 
Asia. All alike prized the wild freedom and absence 
of restraint so essentially characteristic of their new 
life ; a life in many ways very pleasant, but one which 
on the border of the Indian country sank into mere 
savagery. 

In such a population there was of course much 
loosening of the bands, social, political, moral, and 
religious, which knit a society together. A great many 
of the restraints of their old life were thrown off, and 
there was much social adjustment and readjustment 
before their relations to one another under the new 
conditions became definitely settled. But there came 
early into the land many men of high purpose and 
pure life whose influence upon their fellows, though 
quiet, was very great. 

Rough log schools were springing up everywhere, 
beside the rough log meeting houses, the same building 



i:f)e 3nrus;fj of ^ttthvi, 1 784-1 767 183 

often serving for both purposes. The school teacher 
might be a young surveyor out of work for the moment, 
a New Englander fresh from some academy in the 
Northeast, an Irishman with a smattering of learning, 
or perhaps an English immigrant of the upper class, 
unfit for and broken down by the work of a new country. 
The boys and girls were taught together, and at re- 
cess played together — tag, pawns, and various kissing 
games. The rod was used unsparingly, for the elder 
boys proved boisterous pupils. A favorite mutinous 
frolic was to **bar out" the teacher, taking possession 
of the schoolhouse and holding it against the master 
with sticks and stones until he had either forced an 
entrance or agreed to the terms of the defenders. 
Sometimes this barring out represented a revolt against 
tyranny; often it was a conventional, and half-acqui- 
esced-in, method of showing exuberance of spirit, just 
before the Christmas holidays. In most of the schools 
the teaching was necessarily of the simplest, for the 
only books might be a Testament, a primer, a spelling 
book, and a small arithmetic. 

At this time one of the recently created Kentucky 
judges, an educated Virginian, in writing to his friend 
Madison, said: "We are as harmonious amongst our- 
selves as can be expected of a mixture of people from 
various States and of various Sentiments and Manners 
not yet assimilated. In point of Morals the bulk of 
the inhabitants are far superior to what I expected to 
find in any new settled country. We have not had a 
single instance of Murder, and but one Criminal for 



1 84 TOinmng of tfje WHtit 

Felony of any kind has yet been before the Supreme 
Court. I wish I could say as much to vindicate the 
character of our Land-jobbers. This Business has 
been attended with much villainy in other parts. Here 
it is reduced to a system, and to take the advantage of 
the ignorance or of the poverty of a neighbor is almost 
grown into reputation.'* 

Of course, when the fever for land speculation raged 
so violently, many who had embarked too eagerly in 
the purchase of large tracts became land poor; Clark 
being among those who found that though they owned 
great reaches of fertile wild land they had no means 
whatever of getting rrioney. In Kentucky, while 
much land was taken up under Treasury warrants, 
much was also allotted to the officers of the Continental 
army; and the retired officers of the Continental line 
were the best of all possible immigrants. A class of 
gentlefolks soon sprang up in the land, whose members 
were not so separated from other citizens as to be in 
any way alien to them, and who yet stood sufficiently 
above the mass to be recognized as the natural leaders, 
social and political, of their sturdy fellow-freemen. 
These men by degrees built themselves comfortable, 
roomy houses, and their lives were very pleasant; at a 
little later period Clark, having abandoned war and 
politics, describes himself as living a retired life with, 
as his chief amusements, reading, hunting, fishing, 
fowling, and corresponding with a few chosen friends. 

The gentry offered to strangers the usual open- 
handed hospitality characteristic of the frontier, with 



arfje 3fnrus{f) of g>ettlers;, 1 784-1 7S7 185 

much more than the average frontier refinement; a 
hospitaUty, moreover, which was never marred or inter- 
fered with by the frontier suspiciousness of strangers 
which sometimes made the humbler people of the border 
seem churlish to travelers. When Federal garrisons 
were established along the Ohio, the officers were largely 
dependent for their social pleasures on the gentlefolks 
of the neighborhood. One of them in his journal men- 
tions being entertained by Clark at "a very elegant 
dinner," a number of gentlemen being present. The 
officers in turn sometimes gave dances in the forts, or 
attended the great barbecues to which the people rode 
from far and near. At such a barbecue an ox or a 
sheep, a bear, an elk, or a deer, was split in two and 
roasted over the coals; dinner was eaten under the 
trees; and there was every kind of amusement from 
horse-racing to dancing. 

Besides raising more than enough flour and beef to 
keep themselves in plenty, the settlers turned their 
attention to many other forms of produce. There were 
many thriving orchards; while tobacco cultivation was 
becoming of much importance. Great droves of hogs 
and flocks of sheep flourished in every locality whence 
the bears and wolves had been driven; the hogs run- 
ning free in the woods with the branded cattle and 
horses. Except in the most densely settled parts much 
of the beef was still obtained from buffaloes, and much 
of the bacon from bears. Venison was a staple com- 
modity. The fur trade, largely carried on by French 
trappers, was still of great importance in Kentucky and 



i86 OTinning of tfje Mesit 

Tennessee. North of the Ohio it was the attraction 
which tempted white men into the wilderness. Its 
profitable nature was the chief reason why the British 
persistently clung to the posts on the Lakes, and 
stirred up the Indians to keep the American settlers 
out of all lands that were tributary to the British fur 
merchants. 

In addition to furs, quantities of ginseng were often 
carried to the eastern settlements at this period, when 
the commerce of the West was in its first infancy, and 
was as yet only struggling for an outlet down the Mis- 
sissippi. One of those who went into this trade was 
Boone. Although no longer a real leader in Kentucky 
life he still occupied quite a prominent position and 
served as a Representative in the Virginia Legislature, 
while his fame as a hunter and explorer was now 
spread abroad in the United States, and even Europe. 
To travelers and newcomers generally, he was always 
pointed out as the first discoverer of Kentucky; and 
being modest, self-contained, and self-reliant he always 
impressed them favorably. He spent most of his time 
in hunting, trapping, and surveying land warrants for 
men of means, being paid, for instance, two shillings 
current money per acre for all the good land he could 
enter on a ten-thousand acre Treasury warrant. He 
also traded up and down the Ohio River, at various 
places, such as Point Pleasant and Limestone; and at 
times combined keeping a tavern with keeping a store. 

Boone procured for his customers or for himself such 
articles as linen, cloth, flannel, corduroy, chintz, calico. 



iqqiaaiaeiM edi no v/'3i7 

jniiq b!c nh "hot '7 







nrr nf ffip WEitH 

was tb 



'■■ -^rness. it-. 

uj the British 

:' Lakes, and 

an settlers 

.i fur 



View on the Mississippi 

From an old print 



■^'■' 'Most of his time 

■•.d wnrr;ints fi~r 

nd he > 
River, at various 



11 iiii.tjcn 
1 111 n tv r 



arfjE anrugf) of ^ettlerjf, 1 784-1 1^1 187 

broadcloth, and velvet at prices varying, according to 
the quality, from three to thirty shillings a yard; and 
there was also evidently a ready market for "tea 
ware," knives and forks, scissors, buttons, nails, and 
all kinds of hardware. Furs and skins usually appear 
on the debit sides of the various accounts, ranging in 
value from the skin of a beaver worth eighteen shil- 
lings, or that of a bear worth ten, to those of deer, 
wolves, coons, wildcats, and foxes, costing two to four 
shillings apiece. Boone procured his goods from mer- 
chants in Hagerstown and Williamsport, in Maryland, 
whither he and his sons guided their own pack-trains, 
laden with peltries and with kegs of ginseng, and 
accompanied by droves of loose horses. 

Boone's creed in matters of morality and religion was 
as simple and straightforward as his own character. 
Late in life he wrote to one of his kinsfolk: "All the 
religion I have is to love and fear God, believe in Jesus 
Christ, do all the good to my neighbors and myself that 
I can, and do as little harm as I can help, and trust on 
God's mercy for the rest." The old pioneer always 
kept the respect of red man and white, of friend and foe, 
for he acted according to his belief. 

There was already a strong feeling in the western 
settlements against negro slavery, because of its moral 
evil, and of its inconsistency with all true standards of 
humanity and Christianity, a feeling which continued 
to exist and which later led to resolute efforts to forbid 
or abolish slave-holding. But the consciences of the 
majority were too dull, and, from the standpoint of the 



i88 OTinning of tfie W&tit 

white race, they were too shortsighted to take action 
in the right direction. The selfishness and mental 
obliquity which imperil the future of a race for the 
sake of the lazy pleasure of two or three generations 
prevailed; and in consequence the white people of the 
middle West, and therefore eventually of the South- 
west, clutched the one burden under which they ever 
staggered, the one evil which has ever warped their 
development, the one danger which has ever seriously 
threatened their very existence. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE STATE OF FRANKLIN, I784-I788 

IN Kentucky the old frontiersmen were losing their 
grip on the governmental machinery of the dis- 
trict. The great flood of immigration tended to 
swamp the pioneers ; and the leading parts in the strug- 
gle for statehood were played by men who had come to 
the country about the close of the Revolutionary War, 
and who were often related by ties of kinship to the 
leaders of the Virginia legislatures and conventions. 

On the waters of the upper Tennessee matters were 
entirely diff^erent. Immigration had been slower, and 
the people who did come in were usually of the type 
of those who had first built their stockaded hamlets on 
the banks of the Watauga. The leaders of the early 
pioneers were still the leaders of the community, in 
legislation as in warfare. Moreover North Carolina 
was a much weaker and more turbulent State than 
Virginia; it was very poor, and regarded the western 
settlements as mere burdensome sources of expense. 
In short, the settlers were left to themselves, to work 
out their own salvation as best they might, in peace or 
war; and as they bore most of the burdens of independ- 
ence, they began to long for the privileges. 



190 aaiinmng of tfje OTesit 

In June, 1784, the State Legislature passed an act 
ceding to the Continental Congress all the western 
lands; that is, all of what is now Tennessee. It was 
provided that the sovereignty of North Carolina over 
the ceded lands should continue in full effect until the 
United States accepted the gift; and that the act should 
lapse and become void unless Congress accepted within 
two years. 

There was a general feeling in the Holston region 
that some step should be taken forthwith to prevent 
the whole district from lapsing into anarchy. The 
frontiersmen did not believe that Congress, hampered 
as it was and powerless to undertake new responsibilities 
could accept the gift until the two years were nearly 
gone; and meanwhile North Carolina would in all likeli- 
hood pay them little heed, so that they would be left a 
prey to the Indians without and to their own wrong- 
doers within. 

The first step taken by the frontiersmen in the 
direction of setting up a new state was the election of 
deputies with full powers to a convention held at 
Jonesboro. Here some forty deputies met on August 
23, 1784, and appointed John Sevier President. The 
delegates were unanimous that the counties represented 
should declare themselves independent of North Caro- 
lina, and passed a resolution to this effect. They also 
resolved that the three counties should form themselves 
into an Association, and should enforce all the laws of 
North Carolina not incompatible with beginning the 
career of a separate state, and that Congress should be 



i:f)e ^tate of Jf ranklin, 1 784-1 7SS 191 

petitioned to countenance them, and advise them in the 
matter of their constitution. In addition, they made 
provision for admitting to their state the neighboring 
portions of Virginia, should they apply, and should 
the application be sanctioned by the State of Virginia, 
"or other power having cognizance thereof." 

So far the convention had been unanimous; but a 
split came on the question whether their declaration of 
independence should take effect at once. The majority 
held that it should, and so voted ; while a strong minor- 
ity, amounting to one third of the members, followed the 
lead of John Tipton, and voted in the negative. Dur- 
ing the session a crowd of people, partly from the 
straggling little frontier village itself, but partly from 
the neighboring country, had assembled, and were 
waiting in the street, to learn what the convention had 
decided. A member, stepping to the door of the build- 
ing, announced the birth of the new state. The crowd, 
of course, believed in strong measures, and expressed 
its hearty approval. Soon afterwards the convention 
adjourned, after providing for the calling of a new 
convention, to consist of five delegates from each 
county, who should give a name to the state, and pre- 
pare for it a constitution. 

When the convention did meet, in November, it 
broke up in confusion. At the same time North Caro- 
lina, becoming alarmed, repealed her cession act; and 
thereupon Sevier himself counseled his fellow-citizens 
to abandon the movement for a new state. However, 
they felt they had gone too far to back out. The con- 



192 OTinning of tfje WHesit 

vention came together again in December, and took 
measures looking towards the assumption of full 
statehood. 

Elections for the Legislature were held, and in March, 
1785, the two houses of the new state of Franklin met, 
and chose Sevier as Governor. Courts were organ- 
ized, and military and civil officials of every grade were 
provided, those holding commissions under North Caro- 
lina being continued in office in almost all cases. The 
friction caused by the change of government was thus 
minimized. Four new counties were created, taxes 
were levied, and a number of laws enacted. One of the 
acts was "for the promotion of learning in the county 
of Washington." Under it the first academy west of 
the mountains was started; for some years it was the 
only high school anywhere in the neighborhood where 
Latin, or indeed any branch of learning beyond the 
simplest rudiments, was taught. It is no small credit 
to the backwoodsmen that in this, their first attempt at 
state-making, they should have done what they could 
to furnish their sons the opportunity of obtaining a 
higher education. 

One of the serious problems with which they had to 
grapple was the money question. All through the 
United States the finances were in utter disorder; so 
this backwoods Legislature legalized the payment of 
taxes and salaries in kind, and set a standard of values. 
The dollar was declared equal to six shillings, and a 
scale of prices was established. Among the articles 
which were enumerated as being lawfully payable for 



Zi}t ^tate of Jf ranfelin, 1 7841 7SS 193 

taxes were bacon at sixpence a pound, rye whisky at 
two shillings and sixpence a gallon, peach or apple 
brandy at three shillings per gallon, and country-made 
sugar at one shilling per pound. Skins, however, 
formed the ordinary currency; otter, beaver, and deer 
being worth six shillings apiece, and raccoon and fox 
one shilling and threepence. The Governor's salary 
was set at two hundred pounds, and that of the highest 
judge at one hundred and fifty. 

The new Governor sent a formal communication 
to Governor Alexander Martin of North Carolina, 
announcing that the three counties beyond the moun- 
tains had declared their independence, and erected them- 
selves into a separate state, and setting forth their rea- 
sons for the step. Governor Martin answered Sevier in 
a public letter, in which he went over his arguments one 
by one, and sought to refute them. He announced the 
willingness of the parent State to accede to the separa- 
tion when the proper time came; but he pointed out 
that North Carolina could not consent to such irregular 
and unauthorized separation, and that Congress would 
certainly not countenance it against her wishes. 

At the same time, in the early spring of 1785, the 
authorities of the new state sent a memorial to the Con- 
tinental Congress. The memorial set forth the earnest 
desire of the people of Franklin to be admitted as a 
State of the Federal Union, together with the wrongs 
they had endured from North Carolina, dwelling with 
particular bitterness upon the harm which had resulted 
from her failure to give the Cherokees the goods which 



194 OTiinnins of tfje Wit^t 

they had been promised. It further recited how North 
Carolina's original cession of the western lands had 
moved the Westerners to declare their independence, 
and contended that her subsequent repeal of the act 
making this cession was void, and that Congress should 
treat the cession as an accomplished fact. However, 
Congress took no action either for or against the insur- 
rectionary commonwealth. 

At the outset of its stormy career the new state had 
been named Franklin, in honor of Benjamin Franklin; 
but a large minority had wished to call it Frankland 
instead, and outsiders knew it as often by one title as the 
other. Benjamin Franklin himself did not know that 
it was named after him until it had been in existence 
eighteen months. The state was then in straits, and 
Franklin was appealed to in the hope of some advice or 
assistance. The prudent philosopher replied that this 
was the first time he had been informed that the new 
state was named after him, he having always supposed 
that it was called Frankland. He expressed his high 
appreciation of the honor conferred upon him, and his 
regret that he could not show his appreciation by any- 
thing more substantial than good wishes. He declined 
to commit himself as to the quarrel between Franklin 
and North Carolina, explaining that he could know 
nothing of its merits, as he had but just come home 
from abroad; but he warmly commended the proposi- 
tion to submit the question to Congress, and urged that 
the disputants should abide by its decision. 

In November, 1785, the convention to provide a per- 



atfjE g>tate of Jf ranfelin, 1 784-1 7SS 195 

manent constitution for the state met at Greenville. 
There was already much discontent with the Franklin 
government. The differences between its adherents 
and those of the old North Carolina government were 
accentuated by bitter faction fights among the rivals for 
popular leadership, backed by their families and fol- 
lowers, the rivalry between Sevier and Tipton being 
pronounced, for Tipton was second in influence only to 
Sevier, and was his bitter personal enemy. At the 
convention a brand new constitution was submitted, 
and was urged for adoption by a strong minority. 
After a hot debate and some tumultuous scenes, it was 
rejected by the majority of the convention, and in its 
stead, on Sevier's motion, the North Carolina consti- 
tution was adopted as the groundwork for the new 
government. 

The state of Franklin had now been in existence 
over a year, and during this period the oflficers holding 
under it had exercised complete control in the three 
counties. But in the spring of 1786, the discontent 
which had smoldered burst into flame. Tipton and 
his followers openly espoused the cause of North Caro- 
lina, and were joined, as time waned, by the men who 
for various reasons were dissatisfied with the results of 
the trial of independent statehood. They held elections, 
at the Sycamore Shoals and elsewhere, to choose repre- 
sentatives to the North Carolina Legislature, John 
Tipton being elected Senator. They organized the 
entire local government over again in the interest of 
the old State. 



196 OTinning of tfje OTesit 

The two rival governments clashed in every way. 
County courts of both were held in the same counties; 
the militia were called out by both sets of officers; 
taxes were levied by both Legislatures. The Franklin 
courts were held at Jonesboro, the North Carolina 
courts at Buffalo, ten miles distant; and each court in 
turn was broken up by armed bands of the opposite 
party. Criminals throve in the confusion, and the peo- 
ple refused to pay taxes to either party. Brawls, with 
their brutal accompaniments of gouging and biting, 
were common. Sevier and Tipton themselves, on one 
occasion when they by chance met, indulged in a rough- 
and-tumble fight before their friends could interfere. 

During this time of confusion each party rallied by 
turns, but the general drift was all in favor of North Caro- 
lina. One by one the adherents of Franklin dropped 
away. The revolt was essentially a frontier revolt, and 
Sevier was essentially a frontier leader. The older and 
longer-settled counties and parts of counties were the 
first to fall away from him, while the settlers on the very 
edge of the Indian country clung to him to the last. 

In 1787, the state of Franklin began to totter to its 
fall. In April Sevier, hungering for help or friendly 
advice, wrote again to Franklin. The old sage repeated 
that he knew too little of the circumstances to express 
an opinion, but he urged a friendly understanding with 
North Carolina, and he spoke with unpalatable frank- 
ness on the subject of the Indians. Prevent encroach- 
ments on Indian lands, Franklin wrote to Sevier, — 
Sevier, who, in a last effort to rally his followers, was 



Cfjc state of Jf ranfelin, 1 7841 7SS 197 

seeking a general Indian war to further these very 
encroachments, — and remember that they are the more 
unjustifiable because the Indians usually give good bar- 
gains in the way of purchase, while a war with them 
costs more than any possible price they may ask. 

Sevier, also in the year 1787, carried on a long cor- 
respondence with Evan Shelby, whose adherence to the 
state of Franklin he much desired, as the stout old fel- 
low was a power not only among the frontiersmen but 
with the Virginian and North Carolinian authorities 
likewise. Sevier persuaded the Legislature to oflFer 
Shelby the position of chief magistrate of Franklin, 
and pressed him to accept it, and throw in his lot with 
the Westerners, instead of trying to serve men at a 
distance. 

But Shelby could neither be placated nor intimidated. 
He regarded with equal alarm and anger the loosening 
of the bands of authority and order among the Frank- 
lin frontiersmen. He bitterly disapproved of their law- 
less encroachments on the Indian lands, which he 
feared would cause a general war with the savages. 
At the very time that Sevier was writing to him, he 
was himself writing to the North Carolina government, 
urging them to send forward troops to put down the 
rebellion by force, and was requesting the Virginians 
to back up any such movement with their militia. 
However, no action was necessary. The Franklin 
government collapsed of itself, for in September, 1787, 
the Legislature met for the last time, at Greenville. 

Sevier was left in dire straits by the falling of the 



198 aalmning of tfje Wit^t 

state he had founded; for not only were the North 
CaroHna authorities naturally bitter against him, but 
he had to count on the personal hostility of Tipton. 
About the time that his term as Governor expired, a 
writ, issued by the North Carolina courts, was executed 
against his estate. The sheriff seized all his negro 
slaves, as they worked on his Nolichucky farm, and bore 
them for safe-keeping to Tipton's house. Sevier raised 
a hundred and fifty men and marched to take them 
back, carrying a light field piece. Tipton's friends 
gathered, thirty or forty strong, and a siege began. 
Sevier hesitated to push matters to extremity by charg- 
ing home. For a couple of days there was some skir- 
mishing and two or three men were killed or wounded. 
Then the county-lieutenant, with a hundred and eighty 
militia, came to Tipton's rescue. They surprised 
Sevier's camp at dawn on the last day of February, 
while the snow was falling heavily; and the Franklin 
men fled in panic, one or two being slain. Two of 
Sevier's sons were taken prisoners, and Tipton was 
with difficulty dissuaded from hanging them. This 
scrambling fight marked the ignoble end of the state of 
Franklin. Sevier fled to the uttermost part of the 
frontier, where no writs ran, and speedily became 
engaged in the Indian war. 

A frontier leader and Indian fighter of note, Joseph 
Martin by name, who had dwelt much among the 
Indians, and had great influence over them, as he 
always treated them justly, had been appointed by 
North Carolina Brigadier-General of the Western 



ariie ^tate of Jf ranfelm, 1 7841 7SS 199 

counties lying beyond the mountains. Martin's duties 
were not only to protect the border against Indian raids, 
but also to stamp out any smoldering embers of 
insurrection, and see that the laws of the State were 
again put in operation. 

In April, 1788, he took command, and on the 24th 
of the month reached the lower settlements on the Hol- 
ston River. Here he found that a couple of settlers 
had been killed by Indians a few days before, and he 
met a party of riflemen who had gathered to avenge 
the death of their friends by a foray on the Cherokee 
towns. Martin did not believe that the Cherokees 
were responsible for the murder, and he persuaded the 
angry whites to choose four of their trusted men to 
accompany him as ambassadors to the Cherokee towns 
in order to find out the truth. 

Accordingly they all went forward together. Mar- 
tin sent runners ahead to the Cherokees, and their 
chiefs and young warriors gathered to meet him. The 
Indians assured him that they were guiltless of the 
recent murder; that it should doubtless be laid at the 
door of some Creek war party. The Creeks, they said, 
kept passing through their villages to war on the 
whites, and they had often turned them back. The 
frontier envoys at this professed themselves satisfied, 
and returned to their homes, after begging Martin to 
stay among the Cherokees; and he stayed, his presence 
giving confidence to the Indians, who forthwith began 
to plant their crops. 

Unfortunately, about the middle of May, the mur- 



20O Winning of tfje Wit^t 

ders again began, and again parties of riflemen gath- 
ered for vengeance. Martin intercepted one of them 
ten miles from a friendly Cherokee town; but another 
attacked and burned a neighboring town, the inhabi- 
tants escaping with slight loss. The Cherokees, being 
incensed at the attack, threatened Martin at first. 
After awhile they cooled down, and explained to him 
that the outrages were the work of the Creeks and 
Chickamaugas, whom they could not control, and whom 
they hoped the whites would punish; but that they 
themselves were innocent and friendly. Then the 
whites sent messages to express their regret; and though 
Martin declined longer to be responsible for the deeds of 
men of his own color, the Indians consented to patch up 
another truce. 

The outrages, however, continued; among others, a 
big boat was captured by the Chickamaugas, and all 
but three of the forty persons on board were killed. 
The settlers drew no fine distinctions between different 
Indians; they knew that their friends were being mur- 
dered by savages who came from the direction of the 
Cherokee towns; and they vented their wrath on the 
Indians who dwelt in these towns because they were 
nearest to hand. 

On May 24th Martin left the Indian town of Chota, 
where he had been staying, and rode to the French 
Broad. There he found that a big levy of frontier 
militia, with Sevier at their head, were preparing to 
march against the Indians. Sevier, heedless of Mar- 
tin's remonstrances, hurried forward on his raid, with 



lerioo^ ub oniBil 



.' uiiefii 



Prairie du Rocher 

From a steel engraving 



Zi)t ^tate of Jfranblm, 1784-1788 201 

a hundred riders. He destroyed a town on the Hia- 
wassee, kiUing a number of the warriors. This feat, 
and two or three others Hke it, made the frontiersmen 
flock to his standard; but before any great number 
were embodied under him, he headed a small party on 
a raid against a small town of Cherokees, who were 
well known to have been friendly to the whites. Here 
dwelt several chiefs, including old Corn Tassel, who 
for years had been foremost in the endeavor to keep the 
peace, and to prevent raids on the settlers. They put 
out a white flag; and the whites then hoisted one 
themselves. On the strength of this, one of the Indians 
crossed the river and ferried the whites over. Sevier 
put the Indians in a hut, and then a horrible deed of 
infamy was perpetrated ; for he allowed these Cherokee 
chiefs to be brained with the tomahawk. Sevier's 
friends asserted that at the moment he was absent; 
but he knew well the fierce blood lust of his followers, 
and it was criminal negligence on his part to leave to 
their mercy the friendly Indians who had trusted to his 
good faith; and, moreover, he made no effort to punish 
the murder. 

Even on the frontier, and at that time, the better 
class of backwoodsmen expressed much horror at the 
murder of the friendly chiefs. Sevier had planned to 
march against the Chickamaugas with the levies that 
were thronging to his banner; but the news of the 
murder provoked such discussion and hesitation that 
his forces melted away. Elsewhere throughout the 
country the news excited great indignation. The Con- 



202 aaiinnins of tfje Wesit 

tinental Congress passed resolutions condemning acts 
which they had been powerless to prevent and were 
powerless to punish, and the Governor of North Caro- 
lina, as soon as he heard the news, ordered the arrest 
of Sevier and his associates. 

As long as "Nolichucky Jack" remained on the 
border, among the rough Indian fighters whom he had 
so often led to victory, he was in no danger. But in 
the fall, late in October, he ventured back to the longer- 
settled districts. A council of officers, with Martin 
presiding and Tipton present as one of the leading mem- 
bers, had been held at Jonesboro, and had just broken 
up when Sevier and a dozen of his followers rode into 
the squalid little town. After much drinking and 
carousing, they all rode away; but when some miles 
out of town Sevier got into a quarrel, and after more 
drinking and brawling he went to pass the night at a 
house, the owner of which was his friend. Meanwhile 
one of the men with whom he had quarreled informed 
Tipton that his foe was in his grasp. Tipton gathered 
eight or ten men, and early next morning surprised 
Sevier in his lodgings. 

Tipton captured Sevier, put him in irons, and sent 
him across the mountains to Morgantown, in North 
Carolina, where he was kindly treated and allowed 
much liberty. Meanwhile a dozen of his friends, with 
his two sons at their head, crossed the mountains to 
rescue their beloved leader. They came into Morgan- 
town while court was sitting and went unnoticed in 
the crowds. In the evening, when the court adjourned 



STjje ^tate of jFranfelin, 1 7841 7SS 203 

and the crowds broke up, Sevier's friends managed to 
get near him with a spare horse; he mounted and they 
all rode off at top speed. By daybreak they were out of 
danger. Nothing further was attempted against him. 
A year later he was elected a member of the North 
Carolina Legislature; after some hesitation he was 
allowed to take his seat, and the last trace of the old 
hostility disappeared. 

The year before this, Congress had been much 
worked up over the discovery of a supposed movement 
in Franklin to organize for the armed conquest of 
Louisiana. The Secretary of War at once directed 
General Harmar to interfere, by force if necessary, with 
the execution of any such plan, and an officer of the 
regular army was sent to Franklin to find out the truth 
of the matter. This officer visited the Holston country 
in April, 1788, and after careful inquiry came to the 
conclusion that no movement against Spain was con- 
templated; the settlers being absorbed in the strife 
between the followers of Sevier and of Tipton. 

The real danger for the moment lay, not in a move- 
ment by the backwoodsmen against Spain, but in a 
conspiracy of some of the backwoods leaders with the 
Spanish authorities. Just at this time the unrest in 
the West had taken the form, not of attempting the cap- 
ture of Louisiana by force, but of obtaining concessions 
from the Spaniards in return for favors to be rendered 
them. 

Sevier was in a mood to be helped and felt that 
with outside assistance he could yet win the day. But 



204 OTinnins of tfie WHt^t 

when nothing came of his proposals, he suddenly be- 
came a Federalist and an advocate of a strong central 
government; and this, doubtless, not because of love 
for Federalism, but to show his hostility to North Caro- 
lina, which had at first refused to enter the new Union. 
Thus the last spark of independent life flickered out in 
Franklin proper. 



CHAPTER XIX 

Kentucky's struggle for statehood 

I 784-1 790 

WHILE the social condition of the communities 
on the Cumberland and the Tennessee had 
changed very slowly, in Kentucky the 
changes had been rapid. For when Col. William Flem- 
ing, an unusually competent observer, visited Ken- 
tucky on surveying business in the winter of 1779-80, 
he was much struck by the misery of the settlers. At 
the Falls they were sickly, suffering with fever and ague ; 
many of the children were dying. Boonsboro and 
Harrodsburg were very dirty, the inhabitants were 
sickly, and the offal and dead beasts lay about, poison- 
ing the air and the water. During the winter no more 
corn could be procured than was enough to furnish an 
occasional hoe-cake. The people sickened on a steady 
diet of buffalo-bull beef, cured in smoke without salt, 
and prepared for the table by boiling. There were then, 
Fleming estimated, about three thousand people in 
Kentucky. 

But half a dozen years later all this was changed. 

The settlers had fairly swarmed into the Kentucky 

205 



206 OTinning of tfje Mesit 

country, and the population was so dense that the true 
frontiersmen, the real pioneers, were already wander- 
ing off to Illinois and elsewhere; every man of them 
desiring to live on his own land, by his own labor, and 
scorning to work for wages. The unexampled growth 
had wrought many changes ; not the least was the way 
in which it lessened the importance of the first hunter- 
settlers and hunter-soldiers. 

In all new-settled regions in the United States, so 
long as there was a frontier at all, the changes in the 
pioneer population proceeded in a certain definite order, 
and Kentucky furnished an example of the process. 
The hunter or trapper came first. Sometimes he com- 
bined with hunting and trapping the functions of an 
Indian trader, but ordinarily the American, as distin- 
guished from the French or Spanish frontiersman, 
treated the Indian trade as something purely secondary 
to his more regular pursuits. Boone was a type of this 
class, and Boone's descendants went westward genera- 
tion by generation until they reached the Pacific. 

Close behind the mere hunter came the rude hunter- 
settler. He pastured his stock on the wild range, and 
lived largely by his skill with the rifle. He worked 
with simple tools and he did his work roughly. His 
squalid cabin was destitute of the commonest comforts; 
the blackened stumps and dead, girdled trees stood 
thick in his small and badly tilled field. He was adven- 
turous, restless, shiftless, and he felt ill at ease and 
cramped by the presence of more industrious neighbors. 
As they pressed in round about him, he would sell his 



Witntmkfi struggle for g>tatefjoob 207 

claim, gather his cattle and his scanty store of tools 
and household goods, and again wander forth to seek 
uncleared land. 

The third class consisted of the men who were thrifty, 
as well as adventurous, the men who were even more 
industrious than restless. These were they who entered 
in to hold the land, and who handed it on as an inherit- 
ance to their children and their children's children. 
They wished to find good land on which to build, and 
plant, and raise their big families of healthy children, 
and when they found such land they wished to make 
thereon their permanent homes. Though they first 
built cabins, as soon as might be they replaced them 
with substantial houses and barns. Though they at 
first girdled and burnt the standing timber, to clear the 
land, later they tilled it as carefully as any farmer of the 
seaboard States. They composed the bulk of the popu- 
lation, and formed the backbone and body of the 
State. 

Yet a fourth class was composed of the men of means, 
of the well-to-do planters, merchants, and lawyers, of 
the men whose families already stood high on the 
Atlantic slope. Their inheritance of sturdy and self- 
reliant manhood helped them greatly; their blood told 
in their favor as blood generally does tell when other 
things are equal. If they prized intellect they prized 
character more; they were strong in body and mind, 
stout of heart, and resolute of will. They felt that 
pride of race which spurs a man to effort, instead of 
making him feel that he is excused from effort. They 



208 OTinning of tfje Megt 

realized that the qualities they inherited from their 
forefathers ought to be further developed by them as 
their forefathers had originally developed them. They 
knew that their blood and breeding, though making it 
probable that they would with proper effort succeed, 
yet entitled them to no success which they could not 
fairly earn in open contest with their rivals. 

In spite of all the efforts of the Spanish officials the 
volume of trade on the Mississippi grew steadily. The 
fact that the river commerce throve was partly the 
cause and partly the consequence of the general pros- 
perity of Kentucky. The pioneer days, with their 
fierce and squalid struggle for bare life, were over. If 
men were willing to work, they were sure to succeed in 
earning a comfortable livelihood in a country so rich. 
Like all other successful and masterful people, the 
Kentuckians showed by their actions their practical 
knowledge of the truth that no race can ever hold its 
own unless its members are able and willing to work 
hard with their hands. 

The general prosperity meant rude comfort every- 
where ; and it meant a good deal more than rude com- 
fort for the men of greatest ability. By the time the 
river commerce had become really considerable, the 
rich merchants, planters, and lawyers had begun to 
build two-story houses of brick or stone, like those in 
which they had lived in Virginia. They were very 
fond of fishing, shooting, and riding, and were lavishly 
hospitable. They sought to have their children well 
taught, not only in letters but in social accomplish- 



nanaiJ 



W&inmnq of tfjf WB.i:">^ 

ic'ciii/ic'j' Liuit trie (J u at.' u;(.. c nicj uiin^iJtCQ troiii Llicir 

f >.-^fiTl.pr< ought to be fiirt'ner developed by them as 

hers had origii ^ veloped them. They 

' blood and breeding, though making it 

proper effort succeed, 

could not 



General George Rogers Clark 

From a painting by Matthew H. Jouett 



Je comfort every- 
more than rude com- 
ty. By the time the 

erable, 

iwyers had begu; 

or stone, like those m 

na. They were very 

: .,.x>j >'i : ing, and were lavishly 

! rv=nitabi_. v" their children well 

It not accomplish- 



Witntmkf^ Struggle for ^tatefjoob 209 

ments, like dancing; and at tne proper season they 
liked to visit the Virginian watering-places, where they 
met "genteel company" from the older States, and 
lodged in good taverns in which "a man could have a 
room and a bed to himself." 

One man, who would naturally have played a promi- 
nent part in Kentucky politics, failed to do so from 
a variety of causes. This was George Rogers Clark. 
He was by preference a military rather than a civil 
leader; he belonged by choice and habit to the class of 
pioneers and Indian fighters whose influence was wan- 
ing; his remarkable successes had excited much envy 
and jealousy, while his subsequent failure had aroused 
contempt. He drew himself to one side, though he 
chafed at the need, and in his private letters he spoke 
with bitterness of the "big little men," the ambitious 
nobodies, whose jealousy had prompted them to destroy 
him by ten thousand lies; and, making a virtue of 
necessity, he plumed himself on the fact that he did not 
meddle with politics. 

Benjamin Logan, who was senior colonel and county 
lieutenant of the District of Kentucky, stood second to 
Clark in the estimation of the early settlers, the men 
who, riding their own horses and carrying their own 
rifles, had so often followed both commanders on their 
swift raids against the Indian towns. Logan naturally 
took the lead in the first serious movement to make 
Kentucky an independent State. 

In 1784, fear of a formidable Indian invasion became 
general in Kentucky, and in the fall Logan summoned 



210 aaainnins of tfje WBt&t 

a meeting of the field officers to discuss the danger and 
to provide against it. When the officers gathered and 
tried to evolve some plan of operations, they found that 
they were helpless. They were merely the officers of 
one of the districts of Virginia; they could take no 
proper steps of their own motion, and Virginia was too 
far away and her interests had too little in common 
with theirs for the Virginian authorities to prove satis- 
factory substitutes for their own. No officials in Ken- 
tucky were authorized to order an expedition against 
the Indians, or to pay the militia who took part in it. 
Any expedition of the kind had to be wholly voluntary, 
and could of course only be undertaken under the 
strain of a great emergency. Confronted by such a 
condition of affairs, the militia officers issued a circular 
letter to the people of the district, recommending that 
on December 24, 1784, a convention should be held at 
Danville further to consider the subject, and that this 
convention should consist of delegates elected one from 
each militia company. 

The recommendation was well received by the people 
of the district; and on the appointed date the conven- 
tion met at Danville. Col. William Fleming, the old 
Indian fighter and surveyor, was again visiting Ken- 
tucky, and he was chosen President of the convention. 
After some discussion the members concluded that, 
while some of the disadvantages under which they 
labored could be remedied by the action of the Virginia 
Legislature, the real trouble was deep rooted, and could 
only be met by separation from Virginia and the 



Mtntntkfn Struggle (or ^tatefjoob 211 

erection of Kentucky into a State. There was, however, 
much opposition to this plan, and the convention wisely 
decided to dissolve, after recommending to the people 
to elect, by counties, members who should meet in 
convention at Danville in May for the express purpose 
of deciding on the question of addressing to the Virginia 
Assembly a request for separation. 

The convention, which met at Danville, in May, 
1785, decided unanimously that it was desirable to 
separate, by constitutional methods, from Virginia, 
and to secure admission as a separate State into the 
Federal Union. Accordingly, it directed the prepara- 
tion of a petition to this effect, to be sent to the Virginia 
Legislature, and prepared an address to the people in 
favor of the proposed course of action. Then instead 
of acting on its own responsibility, as it had both the 
right and power to do, the convention decided that the 
issuing of the address, and the ratification of its own 
actions generally, should be submitted to another con- 
vention, which was summoned to meet at the same 
place in August of the same year. 

In the August convention James Wilkinson sat as a 
member, and he succeeded in committing his colleagues 
to a more radical course of action than that of the pre- 
ceding convention. The resolutions they forwarded 
to the Virginia Legislature, asked the immediate erec- 
tion of Kentucky into an independent State, and 
expressed the conviction that the new commonwealth 
would undoubtedly be admitted into the Union. This, 
of course, meant that Kentucky would first become a 



212 OTinnins of tfje OTesit 

power outside and independent of the Union; and no 
provision was made for entry into the Union beyond 
the expression of a hopeful belief that it would be 
allowed. 

But when Virginia, with great propriety, made the 
acquiescence of Congress a condition precedent for the 
formation of the new State, Wilkinson immediately 
denounced this condition and demanded that Kentucky 
declare herself an independent State forthwith, no mat- 
ter what Congress or Virginia might say. All the 
disorderly, unthinking, and separatist elements fol- 
lowed his lead. But the most enlightened and far-see- 
ing men of the district were alarmed at the outlook; 
and a vigorous campaign in favor of orderly action was 
begun, under the lead of men like the Marshalls. These 
men were themselves uncompromisingly in favor of 
statehood for Kentucky; but they insisted that it should 
come in an orderly way, and not by a silly and needless 
revolution, which could serve no good purpose and was 
certain to entail much disorder and suffering upon the 
community. They insisted, furthermore, that there 
should be no room for doubt in regard to the new State's 
entering the Union. 

When the time (September, 1787) came for holding 
the new convention that had been ordered by Virginia, 
Clark and Logan were making their raids against the 
Shawnees and the Wabash Indians. So many mem- 
bers-elect were absent in command of their respec- 
tive militia companies that the convention merely met 
to adjourn, no quorum to transact business being 



Mtntutkf^ Struggle for ^tatefjoob 213 

obtained until January, 1787. The convention then 
sent to the Virginia Legislature explaining the reason 
for the delay, and requesting that the terms of the act of 
separation already passed should be changed to suit the 
new conditions. 

Virginia had so far acted wisely; but now her Legis- 
lature passed a new act, providing for another conven- 
tion, to be held in August, 1787, the separation from 
Virginia only to be consummated if Congress, prior to 
July 4, 1788, should agree to the erection of the State 
and provide for its admission to the Union. When 
news of this act, with its requirement of needless and 
tedious delay, reached the Kentucky convention, it 
adjourned for good, with much chagrin. 

Wilkinson and the other separatist leaders took 
advantage of this very natural chagrin to inflame the 
minds of the people against both Virginia and Con- 
gress. It was at this time that the Westerners became 
deeply stirred by exaggerated reports of the willingness 
of Congress to yield the right to navigate the Missis- 
sippi ; and the separatist chiefs fanned their discontent 
by painting the danger as real and imminent, although 
they must speedily have learned that it had already 
ceased to exist. 

However, at this time Wilkinson started on his first 
trading voyage to New Orleans, and the district was 
freed from his very undesirable presence. He was the 
mainspring of the movement in favor of lawless sepa- 
ration; for the furtive, restless, unscrupulous man had 
a talent for intrigue which rendered him dangerous at 



214 Wiimm of tfje OTegt 

a crisis of such a kind. In his absence the feeling 
cooled. The convention met in September, 1787, and 
acted with order and propriety, passing an act which 
provided for statehood upon the terms and conditions 
laid down by Virginia. Both Virginia and the Conti- 
nental Congress were notified of the action taken. 

With Wilkinson's return to Kentucky, after his suc- 
cessful trading trip to New Orleans and fresh from 
plotting with the Spanish officials, the disunion agita- 
tion once more took formidable form. The news of his 
success excited the cupidity of every mercantile adven- 
turer, and the whole district became inflamed with 
desire to reap the benefits of the rich river-trade; and 
naturally the people formed the most exaggerated esti- 
mate of what these benefits would be. Chafing at the 
way the restrictions imposed by the Spanish officials 
hampered their commerce, the people were readily led 
by Wilkinson and his associates to consider the Federal 
authorities as somehow to blame because these restric- 
tions were not removed. 

The discontent was much increased by the growing 
fury of the Indian ravages. There had been a lull in 
the murderous woodland warfare during the years 
immediately succeeding the close of the Revolution, but 
the storm had again gathered. The hostility of the 
savages had grown steadily. By the summer of 1787, 
the Kentucky frontier was suff^ering much. In their 
anger the Kentuckians denounced the Federal Govern- 
ment for not aiding them, the men who were loudest in 
their denunciations being the very men who were most 



Mtntutkf^ ^trussle for ^tatefioob 215 

strenuously bent on refusing to adopt the new Consti- 
tution, which alone could give the National Government 
the power to act effectually in the interest of the people. 

While the spirit of unrest and discontent was high, 
the question of ratifying or rejecting this new Federal 
Constitution came up for decision. The Wilkinson 
party, and all the men who believed in a weak central 
government, or who wished the Federal tie dissolved 
outright, were, of course, violently opposed to ratifica- 
tion. Many weak or short-sighted men, and the doc- 
trinaires and theorists — most of the members of the 
Danville political club, for instance — announced that 
they wished to ratify the Constitution, but only after it 
had been amended. As such prior amendment was 
impossible, this amounted merely to playing into the 
hands of the separatists; and the men who followed it 
were responsible for the by no means creditable fact 
that most of the Kentucky members in the Virginia 
convention voted against ratification. 

Another irritating delay in the march toward state- 
hood now occurred. In June, 1788, the Continental 
Congress declared that it was expedient to erect Ken- 
tucky into a State. But immediately afterwards news 
came that the Constitution had been ratified by the 
necessary nine States, and that the new government 
was, therefore, practically in being. This meant the 
dissolution of the old Confederation, and Congress 
thereupon very wisely refused to act further in the mat- 
ter. Unfortunately Brown, who was the Kentucky 
delegate in Congress, was one of the separatist leaders. 



2i6 aiaainnins of tfje OTiesit 

He wrote home an account of the matter, in which he 
painted the refusal as due to the jealousy felt by the 
East for the West. As a matter of fact the delegates 
from all the States, except Virginia, had concurred in 
the action taken. Brown suppressed this fact, and 
used language carefully calculated to render the Ken- 
tuckians hostile to the Union. 

Naturally all this gave an impetus to the separatist 
movement. The district held two conventions, in July 
and again in November, during the year 1788; and in 
both of them the separatist leaders made determined 
efforts to have Kentucky forthwith erect herself into 
an independent State. In uttering their opinions and 
desires they used vague language as to what they would 
do when once separated from Virginia. 

It was in connection with these conventions that 
there appeared in August, 1787, the first newspaper ever 
printed in this new West, the West which lay no longer 
among the Alleghanies, but beyond them. It was a 
small weekly sheet called the Kentucke Gazette^ the 
editor and publisher of which was John Bradford, who 
brought his printing press down the river on a flatboat; 
and some of the type were cut out of dogwood. In 
politics the paper sided with the separatists and clam- 
ored for revolutionary action by Kentucky. 

The purpose of the extreme separatists to keep Ken- 
tucky out of the Union was defeated by the action of 
the fall convention of 1788, which settled definitely that 
Kentucky should become a State of the Union. All 
that remained was to decide on the precise terms of the 



i^entuckp's; Struggle for S>tatef)oob 217 

separation from Virginia. There was at first a hitch 
over these, the Virginia Legislature making terms to 
which the district convention of 1789 would not con- 
sent; but Virginia then yielded the points in dispute, 
and the Kentucky convention of 1790 provided for the 
admission of the State to the Union in 1792, and for 
holding a constitutional convention to decide upon the 
form of government, just before the admission. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY; OHIO 
I 787-1 790 

AT the close of the Revolutionary War there 
existed wide differences between the various 
States as to the actual ownership and posses- 
sion of the lands they claimed beyond the mountains. 
Virginia and North Carolina were the only two who 
had reduced to some kind of occupation a large part of 
the territory to which they asserted title. Their back- 
woodsmen had settled in the lands so that they already 
held a certain population. Moreover, these same back- 
woodsmen, organized as part of the militia of the parent 
States, had made good their claim by successful war- 
fare. The laws of the two States were executed by 
State officials in communities scattered over much of 
the country claimed. The soldier-settlers of Virginia 
and North Carolina had actually built houses and forts, 
tilled the soil, and exercised the functions of civil 
government, on the banks of the Wabash and the Ohio, 
the Mississippi, the Cumberland, and the Tennessee. 
Counties and districts had been erected by the two 
States on the western waters; and representatives of 

218 



the civil divisons thus constituted sat in the State 
Legislatures. The claims of Virginia and North Caro- 
lina to much of the territory had behind them the 
substantial element of armed possession. 

Nothing of the sort could be said for the claims of the 
other States, for actual possession was not part of them. 
All the States that did not claim lands beyond the 
mountains were strenuous in belittling the claims of 
those that did, and insisted that the title to the western 
territory should be vested in the Union. Not even the 
danger from the British armies could keep this question 
in abeyance, and while the war was at its height the 
States were engaged in bitter wrangles over the subject. 
Maryland was the first to take action in the direction 
of nationalizing the western lands, and was the most 
determined in pressing the matter to a successful issue. 
She showed the greatest hesitation in joining the Con- 
federation at all while the matter was allowed to rest 
unsettled; and insisted that the titles of the claimant 
States were void, that there was no need of asking them 
to cede what they did not possess, and that the West 
should be declared outright to be part of the Federal 
domain. 

Maryland dreaded the mere growth of Virginia in 
wealth, power, and population in the first place; and 
in the second she feared lest her own population might 
be drained into these vacant lands, thereby at once 
diminishing her own, and building up her neighbor's 
importance. Each State, at that time, had to look 
upon its neighbors as probable commercial rivals and 



220 Winning of tJjc Witit 

possible armed enemies — a feeling which we now find 
difficulty in understanding. 

New York's claim was the least defensible of all; 
but, on the other hand, New York led the way, in 1780, 
by abandoning all her claim to western lands in favor 
of the Union. Congress using this surrender as an 
argument by which to move the other States to action, 
issued an earnest appeal to them to follow New York's 
example without regard to the value of their titles, so 
that the Federal Union might be put on a firm basis; 
and announced that the policy of the Government 
would be to divide this new territory into districts of 
suitable size, which should be admitted as States as 
soon as they became well settled. This last proposition 
was important, as it outlined the future policy of the 
Government, which was to admit the new communities 
as States, with all the rights of the old States, instead of 
treating them as subordinate and dependent, after the 
manner of the European colonial systems. 

Not until then did Maryland join the Confederation; 
but for some time no progress was made in the negoti- 
ations with the other States. Finally, early in 1784, 
Virginia ceded to Congress her rights to the territory 
northwest of the Ohio, except a certain amount retained 
as a military reserve for the use of her soldiers, while 
Congress tactily agreed not to question her right to 
Kentucky. A year later Massachusetts followed suit, 
and ceded to Congress her title to all lands lying west 
of the present western boundary of New York State. 
Finally, in 1786, a similar cession was made by Con- 



3rf)e iSortfjttjesit i:erritorp; ©fjio 221 

necticut conditionally upon being allowed to reserve 
for her own profit about five thousand square miles in 
what is now northern Ohio — a tract afterwards known 
as the Western Reserve. 

Thus the project for which Maryland had contended 
was at last realized, with the difi^erence that Congress 
accepted the Northwest as a gift coupled with condi- 
tions, instead of taking it as an unconditional right. 
Having got possession of the land. Congress proceeded 
to arrange for its disposition, regarding the territory as 
a Treasury chest, and was anxious to sell the land in 
lots, whether to individuals or to companies. In 1785 
it passed an ordinance of singular wisdom, which has 
been the basis of all our subsequent legislation on the 
subject. Congress provided for a corps of government 
surveyors, who were to go about their work systemati- 
cally. It provided further for a known base line, and 
then for division of the country into ranges of town- 
ships six miles square, and for the subdivision of these 
townships into lots ("sections") of one square mile — 
six hundred and forty acres — each. The ranges, town- 
ships, and sections were duly numbered. The basis for 
the whole system of public education in the Northwest 
was laid by providing that in every township lot No. 
16 should be reserved for the maintenance of public 
schools therein. A minimum price of a dollar an acre 
was put on the land. 

Congress, however, was disappointed in its hope to 
find in these western lands a source of great wealth. 
The task of subduing the wilderness is not very remu- 



222 »inning of tfje WHtit 

nerative. It yields a little more than a livelihood to men 
of energy, resolution, and bodily strength; but it does 
not yield enough for men to be able to pay heavily for 
the privilege of undertaking the labor. Throughout 
our history the pioneer has found that by taking up 
wild land at a low cost he can make a rough living, and 
keep his family fed, clothed, and housed; but it is only 
by very hard work that he can lay anything by, or 
materially better his condition. Under such conditions 
a high price cannot be obtained for public lands; and 
when they are sold, as they must be, at a low price, the 
receipts do little more than offset the necessary outlay. 
The truth is that people have a very misty idea as to 
the worth of wild lands. All their value arises from 
the labor done on them or in their neighborhood, 
together with the amount of labor which must neces- 
sarily be expended in transportation. Such lands 
afford an opportunity of which advantage can be taken 
only at the cost of much hardship and much grinding 
toil. 

It remained for Congress to determine the conditions 
under which the settlers could enter the new land, and 
under which new States should spring up therein. 
The movement in this direction was successful, because, 
when it was made, it was pushed by a body of well- 
known men who were anxious to buy the lands that 
Congress was anxious to sell, but who would not buy 
them until they had some assurance that the govern- 
mental system under which they were to live would 
meet their ideas. This body was composed of New 



Englanders, mostly veterans of the Revolutionary War, 
and led by officers who had stood well in the Continental 
army. 

When, in the fall of 1783, the Continental army was 
disbanded, the war-worn soldiers, who had at last wrung 
victory from the reluctant years of defeat, found them- 
selves fronting grim penury. Some were worn with 
wounds and sickness; all were poor and unpaid; and 
Congress had no means to pay them. Many among 
them felt that they had small chance to repair their 
broken fortunes, if they returned to the homes they had 
abandoned seven weary years before, when the guns of 
the minute-men first called them to battle. 

These heroes of the blue and buff turned their eyes 
westward to the fertile lands lying beyond the moun- 
tains. They petitioned Congress to mark out a Terri- 
tory, in what is now the State of Ohio, as the seat of a 
distinct colony, in time to become one of the confed- 
erated States; and they asked that their bounty lands 
should be set oft" for them in this territory. Two 
hundred and eighty-five officers of the Continental line 
joined in this petition; one hundred and fifty-five, over 
half, were from Massachusetts, the State which had 
furnished more troops than any other to the Revolution- 
ary armies. The remainder were from Connecticut, 
New Hampshire, New Jersey, and Maryland. 

The signers of this petition desired to change the 
paper obligations of Congress, which they held, into 
fertile wild lands which they should themselves subdue 
by their labor; and out of these wild lands they pro- 



224 aaainnins of tfte OTesit 

posed to make a new State. Finally, in the early spring 
of 1786, some of the New England officers met at the 
"Bunch of Grapes" tavern in Boston, and organized 
the Ohio Company of Associates. They at once sent 
one of their number as a delegate to New York, where 
the Continental Congress was in session, to lay their 
memorial before that body. 

Congress was considering an ordinance for the gov- 
ernment of the Northwest, when the memorial was 
presented, and the former was delayed until the latter 
could be considered by the committee to which it 
had been referred. In July, Dr. Manasseh Cutler, of 
Ipswich, Massachusetts, arrived as a second delegate 
to look after the interests of the company. 

The one point of difficulty was the slavery question. 
Only eight States were at the time represented in the 
Congress; these were Massachusetts, New York, New 
Jersey, Delaware, Virginia, North and South Carolina, 
and Georgia — thus five of the eight States were South- 
ern. But the Federal Congress rose in this, almost its 
last act, to a lofty pitch of patriotism; and the Southern 
States showed a marked absence of sectional feeling in 
the matter. The committee that brought in the ordi- 
nance, the majority being Southern men, also reported 
an article prohibiting slavery; and the report was 
vigorously pushed by the two Virginians on the com- 
mittee, William Grayson and Richard Henry Lee. 
The article was adopted by a vote unanimous, except 
for the dissent of one delegate, a nobody from New 
York. 



arfje iSortfjtDESit ^Territorp; ©fjio 225 

The ordinance established a territorial government, 
with a governor, secretary, and judges. A General 
Assembly was authorized as soon as there should be 
five thousand free male inhabitants in the district. 
The lower house was elective, the upper house, or 
council, was appointive. The Legislature was to elect 
a territorial delegate to Congress. The governor was 
required to own a freehold of one thousand acres in the 
district, a judge five hundred, and a representative two 
hundred; and no man was allowed to vote unless he 
possessed a freehold of fifty acres. These provisions 
would seem strangely undemocratic if applied to a 
similar Territory in our own day. 

The all-important features of the ordinance were 
contained in the six articles of compact between the 
confederated States and the people and States of the 
Territory, to be forever unalterable, save by the consent 
of both parties. The first guaranteed complete freedom 
of worship and religious belief to all peaceable and 
orderly persons. The second provided for trial by jury, 
the writ of habeas corpus, the privileges of the common 
law, and the right of proportional legislative represen- 
tation. The third enjoined that faith should be kept 
with the Indians, and provided that "schools and the 
means of education" should forever be encouraged, 
inasmuch as "religion, morality, and knowledge" were 
necessary to good government. The fourth ordained 
that the new States formed in the Northwest should 
forever form part of the United States, and be subject 

to the laws, as were the others. The fifth provided for 
15 



226 Miinnms of tfje WHesit 

the formation and admission of not less than three nor 
more than five States, formed out of this Northwestern 
Territory, whenever such a putative State should con- 
tain sixty thousand inhabitants ; the form of govern- 
ment to be republican, and the State, when created, to 
stand on an equal footing with all the other States. 

The sixth and most important article declared that 
there should never be slavery or involuntary servitude 
in the Northwest, otherwise than for the punishment 
of convicted criminals, provided, however, that fugitive 
slaves from the older States might lawfully be reclaimed 
by their owners. This was the greatest blow struck 
for freedom and against slavery in all our history, save 
only Lincoln's emancipation proclamation, for it deter- 
mined that in the final struggle the mighty West should 
side with the right against the wrong. It was in its 
results a deadly stroke against the traffic in and owner- 
ship of human beings, and the blow was dealt by 
Southern men, to whom all honor should ever be given. 

In one respect the ordinance marked a new departure 
of the most radical kind. The adoption of the policy 
therein outlined has worked a complete revolution in 
the way of looking at new communities formed by 
colonization from the parent country. Yet the very 
completeness of this revolution to a certain extent veils 
from us its importance. The Ordinance of 1787 decreed 
that the new States should stand in every respect on an 
equal footing with the old; and yet should be individ- 
ually bound together with them. This was something 
entirely new in the history of colonization. Hitherto 



arte i5ortf)d3Es;t ^erritorp; (©f)io 227 

every new colony had either been subject to the parent 
state, or independent of it. England, Holland, France, 
and Spain, when they founded colonies beyond the sea, 
founded them for the good of the parent state, and 
governed them as dependencies. The home country 
might treat her colonies well or ill, she might cherish 
and guard them, or oppress them with harshness and 
severity, but she never treated them as equals. 

The American Republic, taking advantage of its for- 
tunate Federal features and of its strong central govern- 
ment, boldly struck out on a new path. New States 
were created, which stood on exactly the same footing 
as the old; and yet these new States formed integral 
and inseparable parts of a great and rapidly growing 
nation. The movement was original with the American 
Republic; she was dealing with new conditions, and on 
this point the history of England merely taught her 
what to avoid. 

The vital feature of the ordinance was the prohibition 
of slavery, which was brought about by the action of 
the Ohio Company. Without the prohibition the com- 
pany would probably not have undertaken its experi- 
ment in colonization; and save for the pressure of the 
company, slavery would hardly have been abolished. 
Congress wished to sell the lands, and was much 
impressed by the solid worth of the founders of the asso- 
ciation. The New Englanders were anxious to buy 
the lands, but were earnest in their determination to 
exclude slavery from the new Territory. The slave 
question was not at the time a burning issue between 



228 OTinnins of the OTesit 

North and South; for no Northerner thought of cru- 
sading to destroy the evil, while most enlightened 
Southerners were fond of planning how to do away with 
it. The tact of the company's representative before 
Congress, Dr. Cutler, did the rest. 

A fortnight after the passage of the ordinance, the 
transaction was completed by the sale of a million and 
a half acres, north of the Ohio, to the Ohio Company. 
The price was nominally seventy cents an acre; but as 
payment was made in depreciated public securities, the 
real price was only eight or nine cents an acre. 

The company was well organized, the founders 
showing the invaluable New England aptitude for busi- 
ness, and there was no delay in getting the settlement 
started. After some deliberation the lands lying along 
the Ohio, on both sides of, but mainly below, the Mus- 
kingum, were chosen for the site of the new colony. 

In January and February, 1788, the new settlers 
began to reach the banks of the Youghiogheny, and set 
about building boats to launch when the river opened. 
There were forty-eight settlers in all who started down 
stream, their leader being General Rufus Putnam. He 
was a tried and gallant officer, who had served with 
honor not only in the Revolutionary armies, but in the 
war which crushed the French power in America. On 
April 7, 1788, he stepped from his boat, which he had 
very appropriately named the Mayflower, onto the 
bank of the Muskingum. The settlers immediately set 
to work felling trees, building log houses and a stock- 
ade, clearing fields, and laying out the ground-plan of 



2rf)e i5ortf)ttie£jt ^Territorp; ©fjio 229 

Marietta; for they christened the new town after the 
French Queen, Marie Antoinette. 

The new settlers were almost all soldiers of the Rev- 
olutionary armies; they were hardworking, orderly 
men of trained courage and of keen intellect. An out- 
side observer speaks of them as being the best informed, 
the most courteous and industrious, and the most law- 
abiding of all the settlers who had come to the frontier, 
while their leaders were men of a higher type than was 
elsewhere to be found in the West. No better material 
for founding a new State existed anywhere. With such 
a foundation the State was little likely to plunge into 
the perilous abysses of anarchic license or of separatism 
and disunion. Moreover, to plant a settlement of this 
kind on the edge of the Indian-haunted wilderness 
showed that the founders possessed both hardihood and 
resolution. 

Rufus Putnam and his fellow New Englanders built 
their new town under the guns of a Federal fort, only 
just beyond the existing boundary of settlement, and 
on land guaranteed them by the Federal Government. 
The dangers they ran and the hardships they suffered 
in no wise approached those undergone and overcome 
by the iron-willed, iron-limbed hunters who first built 
their lonely cabins on the Cumberland and Kentucky. 

In the summer of 1788 Dr. Manasseh Cutler visited 
the colony he had helped to found, and kept a diary 
of his journey. His trip' through Pennsylvania was 
marked merely by such incidents as were common at 
that time on every journey in the United States away 



230 ®Hinning of tfje OTesit 

from the larger towns. He traveled with various com- 
panions, stopping at taverns and private houses; and 
both guests and hosts were fond of trying their skill 
with the rifle, either at a mark or at squirrels. In mid- 
August he reached Coxe's fort on the Ohio, and came 
for the first time to the frontier proper. Here he 
embarked on a big flatboat with forty-eight others, 
besides cattle. They drifted and paddled down stream, 
and on the evening of the second day reached 
Muskingum. 

The next three weeks he passed very comfortably 
with his friends, taking part in the various social enter- 
tainments, walking through the woods, and visiting 
one or two camps of friendly Indians with all the 
curiosity of a pleasure-tourist. Then, bringing his visit 
to a close, within a month he was back at his starting- 
point, well pleased with the industry and prospects of 
the settlers. 

In the fall of 1787, another purchase of public lands 
was negotiated, by the Miami Company. The chief 
personage in this company was John Cleves Symmes, 
one of the first judges of the Northwestern Territory. 
Rights were acquired to take up one million acres, and 
under these rights three small settlements were made 
towards the close of the year 1788. One of them was 
chosen by St. Clair, the first governor, to be the seat 
of government. This little town had been called 
Losantiville in its infancy, but St. Clair re-christened it 
Cincinnati, in honor of the Society of the officers of the 
Continental army. 



^Tjje iSortfjtoesit ^Terntorp; ©fjio 231 

The men who formed these Miami Company colonies 
came largely from the Middle States. Like the found- 
ers of Marietta, very many of them, if not most, had 
served in the Continental army. They were good 
settlers; they made good material out of which to build 
up a great State. Their movement was modeled on 
that of Putnam and his associates. Civil government 
was speedily organized. St. Clair and the judges 
formed the first legislature; in theory they were per- 
mitted to adopt laws already in existence in the old 
States, but as a matter of fact they tried any legislative 
experiment they saw fit. 



CHAPTER XXI 
ST. clair's defeat, 1791 

THE Federal troops were camped in the Federal 
territory north of the Ohio. They garrisoned 
the forts and patrolled between the little log 
towns. They were commanded by the Federal General 
Harmar, and the territory was ruled by the Federal 
Governor St. Clair. Thenceforth the national authori- 
ties and the regular troops played the chief parts in 
the struggle for the Northwest. The frontier militia 
became a mere adjunct — often necessary, but always 
untrustworthy — of the regular forces. 

By 1787, the Indian war had begun with all its old 
fury. The thickly settled districts were not much 
troubled, and the towns which, like Marietta in the 
following year, grew up under the shadow of a Federal 
fort, were comparatively safe. But the frontier of 
Kentucky, and of Virginia proper along the Ohio, 
suffered severely. There was great scarcity of powder 
and lead, and even of guns, and there was difficulty in 
procuring provisions for those militia who consented 
to leave their work and turn out when summoned. 
The settlers were harried, and the surveyors feared to 

go out to their work on the range. 

232 







'.•..vf».'-jB>i«, 



AH 



Marietta in 1 792 

Redrawn from Blanchard's Discovery and Conquests of the 
Northwest 



g>t C(air'2( Befeat, 1791 233 

The Federal authorities were still hopelessly en- 
deavoring to come to some understanding with the 
Indians; they were holding treaties with some of the 
tribes, sending addresses and making speeches to others, 
and keeping envoys in the neighborhood of Detroit. 
These envoys watched the Indians who were there, 
and tried to influence the great gatherings of diff^erent 
tribes who came together at Sandusky to consult as to 
the white advance. 

All the while the ravages grew steadily more severe. 
The Federal officers at the little widely scattered forts 
were at their wits' ends in trying to protect the out- 
lying settlers and retaliate on the Indians; and as the 
latter grew bolder they menaced the forts themselves 
and harried the troops who convoyed provisions to 
them. 

The subalterns in command of the little detachments 
which moved between the posts, whether they went by 
land or water, were forced to be ever on the watch 
against surprise and ambush. This was particularly 
the case with the garrison at Vincennes. The Wabash 
Indians were all the time out in parties to murder and 
plunder; and yet these same thieves and murderers 
were continually coming into town and strolling inno- 
cently about the fort; for it was impossible to tell the 
peaceful Indians from the hostile. They were ever 
in communication with the equally treacherous and 
ferocious Miami tribes, to whose towns the war parties 
often brought five or six scalps in a day, and prisoners, 
too, doomed to a death of awful torture at the stake. 



234 OTinmng of tfie OTes^t 

By the summer of 1790, the raids of the Indians 
became unbearable. With great reluctance the Na- 
tional Government concluded that an effort to chastise 
the hostile savages could no longer be delayed; and 
those on the Maumee, or Miami of the Lakes, and on the 
Wabash, whose guilt had been peculiarly heinous, 
were singled out as the objects of attack. 

The expedition against the Wabash towns was led 
by the Federal commander at Vincennes, Major Ham- 
tranck. No resistance was encountered; and after 
burning a few villages of bark huts and destroying 
some corn he returned to Vincennes. 

The main expedition was that against the Miami 
Indians, and was led by General Harmar himself. It 
was arranged that there should be a nucleus of regular 
troops, but that the force should consist mainly of 
militia from Kentucky and Pennsylvania, the former 
furnishing twice as many as the latter. The troops 
were to gather on the 15th of September at Fort Wash- 
ington, on the north bank of the Ohio, a day's journey 
down stream from Limestone. 

At the appointed time the militia began to straggle 
in; the regular officers had long been busy getting 
their own troops, artillery, and military stores in readi- 
ness, and felt the utmost disappointment at the appear- 
ance of the militia. They numbered but few of the 
trained Indian fighters of the frontier; many of them 
were hired substitutes; most of them were entirely un- 
acquainted with Indian warfare and were new to the 
life of the wilderness. In point of numbers the force 



^t. Clair 's( JBcfeat, 1791 235 

was amply sufficient for its work. But the militia, who 
composed four fifths of the force, were worthless. 

A fortnight's halting progress through the wilderness 
brought the army to a small branch of the Miami of the 
Lakes. Here a horse patrol captured a Maumee In- 
dian, who informed his captors that the Indians knew 
of their approach and were leaving their towns. On 
hearing this an effort was made to hurry forward; but 
when the army reached the Miami towns, on October 
17th, they had been deserted. They stood at the 
junction of two branches of the Miami, the St. Mary's 
and the St. Joseph, about one hundred and seventy 
miles from Fort Washington. The troops had marched 
about ten miles a day. The towns consisted of a 
couple of hundred wigwams, with some good log huts ; 
and there were gardens, orchards, and immense fields 
of corn. All these the soldiers destroyed, and the 
militia loaded themselves with plunder. 

Much angered by the incapacity of the colonel com- 
manding the militia, Harmar gave the command to 
Col. John Hardin of Kentucky, who left the camp next 
morning with two hundred men, including thirty reg- 
ulars. But the militia had turned sulky. They did 
not wish to go, and they began to desert and return to 
camp immediately after leaving it. At least half of 
them had thus left him, when he stumbled on a body 
of about one hundred Indians. The Indians advanced 
firing, and the militia fled with abject cowardice, many 
not even discharging their guns. The thirty regulars 
stood to their work, and about ten of the militia stayed 



236 OTinning of tfje WHt^t 

with them. This small detachment fought bravely, and 
was cut to pieces, but six or seven men escaping. 

This defeat took the heart out of the militia and left 
them thoroughly demoralized. So after a couple of days 
were spent in destroying and ravaging, the return march 
to Fort Washington was begun. But Harmar wished 
to avenge his losses and to forestall any attempt of 
the Indians to harass his shaken and retreating forces. 
Accordingly that night he sent back against the towns 
a detachment of four hundred men, sixty of whom were 
regulars, and the rest picked militia. They were 
commanded by Major Wyllys, of the regulars. It was 
a capital mistake of Harmar's to send off a mere detach- 
ment on such a business. He should have taken a 
force composed of all his regulars and the best of the 
militia, and led it in person. 

The detachment marched soon after midnight, and 
reached the Miami at daybreak on October 22d. It 
was divided into three columns, which marched a few 
hundred yards apart, and were supposed to keep in 
touch with one another. The middle column was led 
by Wyllys in person, and included the regulars and a 
few militia. The rest of the militia composed the flank 
columns and marched under their own officers. 

Immediately after crossing the Miami, and reaching 
the neighborhood of the town, Indians were seen. 
The columns were out of touch, and both of those on 
the flanks pressed forward against small parties of 
braves, whom they drove before them up the St. Joseph. 
Heedless of the orders they had received, the militia 



^t. Clair's; 3BtttaU 1791 237 

thus pressed forward, killing and scattering the small 
parties in their front and losing all connection with the 
middle column of regulars. Meanwhile the main body 
of the Indians gathered to assail this column, and over- 
whelmed it by numbers. The regulars fought well and 
died hard, but they were completely cut off, and most 
of them, including their commander, were slain. The 
survivors made their way back to the main army, and 
joined its slow retreat. 

The net result was a mortifying failure. In all, the 
regulars had seventy-five men killed and three wounded, 
while the militia lost one hundred and eight killed or 
missing and twenty-eight wounded. The march back 
was very dreary; and the militia became so ungovern- 
able that one time Harmar reduced them to order 
only by threatening to fire on them with the artillery. 

During the months following this defeat the situa- 
tion grew steadily worse, both along the Ohio and in the 
Southwest. The Georgians, and the settlers along 
the Tennessee and Cumberland, were harassed rather 
than seriously menaced by the Creek war parties; 
but in the north the more dangerous Indians of the 
Miami, the Wabash, and the Lakes gathered in bodies 
so large as fairly to deserve the name of armies. More- 
over, the pressure of the white advance was far heavier 
in the north. The pioneers who settled in the Ohio 
basin were many times as numerous as those who settled 
on the lands west of the Oconee and north of the Cum- 
berland, and were fed from States much more populous. 
The advance was stronger, the resistance more desper- 



238 aaiinnins of tfje Wit^t 

ate; naturally the open break occurred where the strain 
was most intense. 

As all the Northwestern tribes were banded in open 
war, it was useless to let the conflict remain a succes- 
sion of raids and counter-raids. Only a severe stroke, 
delivered by a formidable army, could cow the tribes. 
Accordingly preparations were made for a campaign 
with a mixed force of regulars, special levies, and 
militia; and St. Clair, already Governor of the North- 
western Territory, was put in command of the army as 
Major-General. 

Before the army was ready the Federal Government 
was obliged to take other measures for the defense of 
the border. Small bodies of rangers were raised from 
the frontier militia for defense; and the Kentuckians 
were authorized to undertake two offensive expeditions 
against the Wabash Indians so as to prevent them rrom 
giving aid to the Miami tribes, whom St. Clair was to 
attack. Both expeditions were carried on by bands 
of mounted volunteers, such as had followed Clark on 
his various raids. In both expeditions the volunteers 
behaved well and committed no barbarous act. The 
Wabash Indians were cowed and disheartened by their 
punishment, and in consequence gave no aid to the 
Miami tribes; but beyond this the raids accomplished 
nothing, and brought no nearer the wished-for time of 
peace. 

Meanwhile St. Clair was striving vainly to hasten 
the preparations for his own far more formidable task. 
There was much delay in forwarding him the men and 



^t. Clair's; MtftaU 1791 239 

provisions and munitions. Congress hesitated and 
debated; the Secretary of War, hampered by a newly 
created office and insufficient means, did not show to 
advantage in organizing the campaign, and was slow 
n carrying out his plans; while the delays were so 
extraordinary that the troops did not make the final 
move from Fort Washington until mid-September. 

St. Clair himself was broken in health; he was a 
sick, weak, elderly man, high-minded, and zealous to 
do his duty, but totally unfit for the terrible respon- 
sibilities of such an expedition against such foes. The 
troops were of wretched stuff. There were two small 
regiments of regular infantry, the rest of the army being 
composed of six-months' levies and of militia ordered 
out for this particular campaign. The pay was con- 
temptible, each private being given three dollars a 
month; while the lieutenants received twenty-two, the 
captains thirty, and the colonels sixty dollars. Most of 
the recruits were hurried into a campaign against pe- 
culiarly formidable foes before they had acquired the 
rudiments of a soldier's training, or even understood 
what woodcraft meant. The officers were men of cour- 
age; but they were utterly untrained themselves, and 
had no time in which to train their men. Harmar had 
learned a bitter lesson the preceding year; he knew well 
what Indians could do, and what raw troops could not; 
and he insisted with emphasis that the only possible 
outcome to St. Clair's expedition was defe'at. 

As the raw troops straggled to Pittsburg they were 
shipped down the Ohio to Fort Washington; and St. 



240 OTinnins of tlje Wit^t 

Clair made the headquarters of his army at a new fort 
some twenty-five miles northward, which he christened 
Fort Hamilton. During September the army slowly 
assembled; two small regiments of regulars, two of six- 
months' levies, a number of Kentucky militia, a few 
cavalry, and a couple of small batteries of light guns. 
After wearisome delays, due mainly to the utter inef- 
ficiency of the quartermaster and contractor, the start 
for the Indian towns was made on October the 4th. 
On October 13th a halt was made to built another little 
fort, christened in honor of Jefferson. There were 
further delays, caused by the wretched management 
of the commissariat department, and the march was 
not resumed until the 24th, the numerous sick being 
left in Fort Jefferson. Then the army once more stum- 
bled northward through the wilderness. 

There was Indian sign, old and new, all through the 
woods ; and the scouts and stragglers occasionally inter- 
changed shots with small parties of braves, and now 
and then lost a man, killed or captured. It was there- 
fore certain that the savages knew every movement 
of the army, which, as it slowly neared the Miami 
towns, was putting itself within easy striking range 
of the most formidable Indian confederacy in the North- 
west. The density of the forest was such that only the 
utmost watchfulness could prevent the foe from ap- 
proaching within arm's length unperceived. It be- 
hooved St. Clair to be on his guard, and he had been 
warned by Washington, who had never forgotten the 
scenes of Braddock's defeat, of the danger of a surprise. 



g)t Clair's; ©efeat, 1791 241 

But St. Clair was broken down by the worry and by 
continued sickness; time and again it was doubtful 
whether he could so much as stay with the army. The 
second in command, Major-General Richard Butler, 
was also sick most of the time; and, like St. Clair, he 
possessed none of the qualities of leadership save cour- 
age. The whole burden fell on the Adjutant-General, 
Colonel Winthrop Sargent, an old Revolutionary 
soldier, who showed ability of a good order; yet in the 
actual arrangements for battle he was, of course, unable 
to remedy the blunders of his superiors. 

St. Clair should have covered his front and flanks for 
miles around with scouting parties; but he rarely sent 
any out, and, thanks to letting the management of 
those who did go devolve on his subordinates, and to 
not having their reports made to him in person, he 
derived no benefit from what they saw. He had twenty 
Chickasaws with him; but he sent these off on an 
extended trip, lost touch of them entirely, and never 
saw them again until after the battle. He did not 
seem to realize that he was himself in danger of attack. 
When some fifty miles or so from the Miami towns, on 
the last day of October, sixty of the militia deserted ; and 
he actually sent back after them one of his two regular 
regiments, thus weakening by one half the only trust- 
worthy portion of his force. 

On November 3d the army, now reduced by deser- 
tions to a total of about fourteen hundred men, camped 
on the eastern fork of the Wabash, high up, where it 
was but twenty yards wide. There was snow on the 



242 OTinning of tfje OTefit 

ground and the little pools were skimmed with ice. 
The camp was on a narrow rise of ground, where the 
troops were cramped together, the artillery and most 
of the horse in the middle. On both flanks, and along 
most of the rear, the ground was low and wet. All 
around, the wintry woods lay in frozen silence. In 
front the militia were thrown across the creek, and 
nearly a quarter of a mile beyond the rest of the troops. 
Parties of Indians were seen during the afternoon, and 
they skulked around the lines at night, so that the 
sentinels frequently fired at them; yet neither St. Clair 
nor Butler took any adequate measures to ward off the 
impending blow. 

Next morning the men were under arms, as usual, 
by dawn, St. Clair intending to throw up entrench- 
ments and then make a forced march in light order 
against the Indian towns. But he was forestalled. 
Soon after sunrise, just as the men were dismissed from 
parade, a sudden assault was made upon the militia, 
who lay unprotected beyond the creek. The unex- 
pectedness and fury of the onset, the heavy firing, and 
the appalling whoops and yells of the throngs of painted 
savages threw the militia in disorder. After a few 
moments' resistance they broke and fled in wild panic 
to the camp of the regulars, among whom they drove in 
a frightened herd, spreading dismay and confusion. 

A furious battle followed. After the first onset the 
Indians fought in silence, no sound coming from them 
save the incessant rattle of their fire, as they crept from 
log to log, from tree to tree, ever closer and closer. The 



^t Clair's; Jiefeat, 1791 243 

soldiers stood in close order, in the open; their musketry 
and artillery fire made a tremendous noise, but did little 
damage to a foe they could hardly see. Now and then, 
through the hanging smoke, terrible figures flitted, 
painted black and red, the feathers of the hawk and 
eagle braided in their long scalp-locks; but save for 
these glimpses, the soldiers knew the presence of their 
somber enemy only from the fearful rapidity with 
which their comrades fell dead and wounded in the 
ranks. 

The Indians fought with the utmost boldness and 
ferocity, and with the utmost skill and caution. Under 
cover of the smoke of the heavy but harmless fire from 
the army they came up so close that they shot the 
troops down as hunters slaughter a herd of standing 
buffalo. Watching their chance, they charged again 
and again with the tomahawk, gliding into close quar- 
ters while their bewildered foes were still blindly firing 
into the smoke-shrouded woods. 

At first the army as a whole fought firmly. The 
officers behaved very well, cheering and encouraging 
their men; but they were the special targets of the 
Indians, and fell rapidly. St. Clair and Butler by their 
cool fearlessness in the hour of extreme peril made some 
amends for their shortcomings as commanders. St. 
Clair's clothes were pierced by eight bullets, but he 
was himself untouched. General Butler had his arm 
broken early in the fight, but he continued to walk to 
and fro along the line until he was mortally wounded, 
when he was carried to the middle of the camp, where 



244 Miinmns of tfje OTesit 

he sat propped up by knapsacks. Men and horses 
were faUing around him at every moment. 

Instead of being awed by the bellowing artillery, the 
Indians made the gunners a special object of attack. 
Man after man was picked off, until almost all were 
slain or disabled. The artillery was thus almost si- 
lenced, and the Indians, emboldened by success, 
swarmed forward and seized the guns, while at the 
same time a part of the left wing of the army began to 
shrink back. But the Indians were now on compara- 
tively open ground, where the regulars could see them 
and get at them; and under St. Clair's own leadership 
the troops rushed fiercely at the savages, with fixed 
bayonets, and drove them back to cover. By this time 
the confusion and disorder were great; while from 
every hollow and grass patch, from behind every stump 
and tree and fallen log, the Indians continued their 
fire. Again and again the officers led forward the 
troops in bayonet charges; and at first the men fol- 
lowed them with a will. Each charge seemed for a 
moment to be successful, the Indians rising in swarms 
and running in headlong flight from the bayonets. 
The men, however, were too clumsy and ill-trained in 
forest warfare to overtake their fleet, half-naked antag- 
onists. The latter, though they fled, came back as 
they pleased; and they were only visible when raised 
by a charge. 

Among the packhorsemen were some who were 
accustomed to the use of the rifle and to life in the 
woods; and these fought well. One, named Benjamin 



fet. Clair*fl( JBefeat, 1791 245 

Van Cleve, kept a journal, in which he described what 
he saw of the fight. He had no gun, but five minutes 
after the firing began he saw a soldier near him with 
his arm swinging useless, and he borrowed the wounded 
man's musket and cartridges. The smoke had settled 
to within three feet of the ground, so he knelt, covering 
himself behind a tree, and only fired when he saw an 
Indian's head, or noticed one running from cover to 
cover. He fired away all his ammunition, and the 
bands of his musket flew off; he picked up another just 
as two levy oflftcers ordered a charge, and followed the 
charging party at a run. By this time the battalions 
were broken, and only some thirty men followed the 
ofl^icers. The Indians fled before the bayonets until 
they reached a ravine, where they halted behind an 
impenetrable tangle of fallen logs. The soldiers also 
halted and were speedily swept away by the fire of the 
Indians, whom they could not reach; but Van Cleve, 
showing his skill as a woodsman, covered himself 
behind a small tree, and gave back shot for shot until 
all his ammunition was gone; then he ran at full speed 
back to camp. Here he found that the artillery had 
been taken and re-taken again and again. Stricken 
men lay in heaps everywhere, and the charging troops 
were once more driving the Indians across the creek in 
front of the camp. 

No words can paint the hopelessness and horror of 
such a struggle as that in which the soldiers were 
engaged. They were hemmed in by foes who showed 
no mercy and whose blows they could in no way return. 



246 Minning of tfje OTes^t 

For two hours or so the troops kept up a slowly lessen- 
ing resistance ; but by degrees their hearts failed. The 
wounded had been brought towards the middle of the 
lines, where the baggage and tents were, and an ever- 
growing proportion of unwounded men joined them. 
In vain the officers tried, by encouragement, by jeers, 
by blows, to drive them back to the fight. They were 
unnerved. 

There was but one thing to do. If possible the rem- 
nant of the army must be saved, and it could only be 
saved by instant flight, even at the cost of abandoning 
the wounded. The broad road by which the army had 
advanced was the only line of retreat. The artillery 
had already been spiked and abandoned. On one of 
the few horses still left, St. Clair mounted. He gath- 
ered together those fragments of the different bat- 
talions which contained the men who still kept heart and 
head, and ordered them to charge and regain the road 
from which the savages had cut them off. Repeated 
orders were necessary before some of the men could be 
roused from their stupor sufficiently to follow the charg- 
ing party; and they were only induced to move when 
told that it was to retreat. 

At the head of the column, the coolest and boldest 
men drew up; and they fell on the Indians with such 
fury as to force them back well beyond the road. This 
made an opening through which, said Van Cleve, the 
packer, the rest of the troops "pressed like a drove of 
bullocks." The Indians were surprised by the vigor 
of the charge, and puzzled as to its object. They 



^t. Clair's; ©efeat, 1791 247 

opened out on both sides and half the men had gone 
through before they fired more than a chance shot or 
two. Then they fell on the rear, and began a hot 
pursuit. St. Clair sent his aide to the front to keep 
order, but neither he nor anyone else could check the 
flight. Major Clark tried to rally his battalion to 
cover the retreat, but he was killed and the effort 
abandoned. 

There never was a wilder rout. As soon as the men 
began to run, and realized that in flight there lay some 
hope of safety, they broke into a stampede which soon 
became uncontrollable. Horses, soldiers, and the few 
camp followers and women who had accompanied the 
army were all mixed together. Neither command nor 
example had the slightest weight; the men were aban- 
doned to the terrible selfishness of utter fear. They 
threw away their weapons as they ran. They thought 
of nothing but escape, and fled in a huddle, the stronger 
and the few who had horses trampling their way to the 
front through the old, the weak, and the wounded; 
while behind them raged the Indian tomahawk. St. 
Clair, himself, tried to stem the torrent of fugitives; 
but he failed, being swept forward by the crowd. 

Among Van Cleve's fellow packers were his uncle 
and a young man named Bonham, who was his close 
and dear friend. The uncle was shot in the wrist, the 
ball lodging near his shoulder; but he escaped. Bon- 
ham, just before the retreat began, was shot through 
both hips, so that he could not walk. Young Van 
Cleve got him a horse, on which he was with difficulty 



248 aaiinnins of tf)e OTiesit 

mounted; then, as the flight began, the two separated. 
Bonham rode until the pursuit had almost ceased; then, 
weak and crippled, he was thrown off his horse and 
slain. Meanwhile Van Cleve ran steadily on foot. By 
the time he had gone two miles most of the mounted 
men had passed him. A boy, on the point of falling 
from exhaustion, now begged his help; and the kind- 
hearted backwoodsman seized the lad and pulled him 
along nearly two miles farther, when he himself became 
so worn out that he nearly fell. There were still two 
horses in the rear, one carrying three men, and one 
two; and behind the latter Van Cleve, summoning his 
strength, threw the boy, who escaped. Nor did Van 
Cleve's pity for his fellows cease with this; for he 
stopped to tie his handkerchief around the knee of a 
wounded man. His violent exertions gave him a cramp 
in both thighs, so that he could barely walk; and in 
consequence the strong and active passed him until he 
was within a hundred yards of the rear, where the 
Indians were tomahawking the old and the wounded 
men. So close were they that for a moment his heart 
sunk in despair; but he threw off his shoes; the touch of 
the cold ground seemed to revive him; and he again 
began to trot forward. He got around a bend in the 
road, passing half a dozen other fugitives; and long 
afterwards he told how well he remembered thinking 
that it would be some time before they would all be 
massacred and his own turn come. However, at this 
point the pursuit ceased, and a few miles farther on he 
had gained the middle of the flying troops, and like 



^t. Clair's; Befeat, 1791 249 

them came to a walk. He fell in with a queer group, 
consisting of the sole remaining officer of the artillery, 
an infantry corporal, and a woman called Red-headed 
Nance. Both of the latter were crying, the corporal 
for the loss of his wife, the woman for the loss of her 
child. The worn-out officer hung on the corporal's 
arm, while Van Cleve "carried his fusee and accoutre- 
ments and led Nance; and in this social way arrived 
at Fort Jefferson a little after sunset." 

Before reaching Fort Jefferson the wretched army 
encountered the regular regiment which had been so 
unfortunately detached a couple of days before the 
battle. The most severely wounded were left in the 
fort; and then the flight was renewed, until the dis- 
organized and half-armed rabble reached Fort Washing- 
ton, and the mean log huts of Cincinnati. Six hundred 
and thirty men had been killed and over two hundred 
and eighty wounded; less than five hundred, only about 
a third of the whole number engaged in the battle, 
remained unhurt. The Indians were rich with the spoil. 
They got horses, tents, guns, axes, powder, clothing, and 
blankets — in short everything their hearts prized. 
Their loss was comparatively slight; it may not have 
been one twentieth that of the whites. They did not 
at the moment follow up their victory, each band going 
off with its own share of the booty. But the triumph 
was so overwhelming, and the reward so great, that the 
war spirit received a great impetus in all the tribes. The 
bands of warriors that marched against the frontier were 
more numerous, more formidable, and bolder than ever. 



250 «mnins of tJje OTiesit 

When the remnant of the defeated army reached the 
banks of the Ohio, St. Clair sent his aide, Denny, to 
carry the news to Philadelphia, at that time the national 
capital. The river was swollen, there were incessant 
snowstorms, and ice formed heavily, so that it took 
twenty days of toil and cold before Denny reached 
Wheeling and got horses. For ten days more he rode 
over the bad winter roads, reaching Philadelphia with 
the evil tidings on the evening of December 19th. It 
was thus six weeks after the defeat of the army before 
the news was brought to the anxious Federal authorities. 

The young officer called first on the Secretary of 
War; but as soon as the Secretary realized the impor- 
tance of the information he had it conveyed to the 
President. Washington was at dinner, with some 
guests, and was called from the table to listen to the 
tidings of ill fortune. He returned with unmoved face, 
and at dinner, and at the reception which followed, he 
behaved with his usual stately courtesy to those whom 
he was entertaining, not so much as hinting at what 
he had heard. But when the last guest had gone, his 
pent-up wrath broke forth in one of those fits of vol- 
canic fury which sometimes shattered his iron outward 
calm. Walking up and down the room he burst out in 
wild regret for the rout and disaster, and bitter invec- 
tive against St. Clair, reciting how, in that very room, 
he had wished the unfortunate commander success and 
honor and had bidden him above all things beware of 
a surprise. ''He went off with that last solemn warn- 
ing thrown into his ears," spoke Washington as he 



&t €laiv'^ ©efeat, 1791 251 

strode to and fro, "and yet to suffer that army to be 
cut to pieces, hacked, butchered, tomahawked, by a 
surprise, the very thing I guarded him against! O 
God, O God, he's worse than a murderer! How can 
he answer to his country!" Then, calming himself 
by a mighty effort: "General St. Clair shall have jus- 
tice ... he shall have full justice." And St. Clair 
did receive full justice, and mercy too, from both 
Washington and Congress. For the sake of his cour- 
age and honorable character they held him guiltless of 
the disaster for which his lack of capacity as a general 
was so largely accountable. 



CHAPTER XXII 

mad anthony wayne and the fight of the fallen 
timbers; 1792-1795 

THE United States Government was almost as 
much demoralized by St. Clair's defeat as was 
St. Clair's own army. There was little na- 
tional glory or reputation to be won even by a suc- 
cessful Indian war; while defeat was a serious disaster 
to a government which was as yet far from firm in its 
seat. The Eastern people were lukewarm about a war 
in which they had no direct interest; and the foolish 
frontiersmen, instead of backing up the administration, 
railed at it. Under such conditions the national admin- 
istration, instead of at once redoubling its efforts to 
ensure success by shock of arms, was driven to the 
ignoble necessity of yet again striving for a hopeless 
peace. 

In pursuance of their timidly futile policy of friendli- 
ness, the representatives of the National Government, 
in the spring of 1792, sent peace envoys, with a flag of 
truce, to the hostile tribes. The unfortunate ambassa- 
dors thus chosen for sacrifice were Colonel John Har- 
din, the gallant but ill-starred leader of Kentucky 
horse; and a Federal officer. Major Alexander True- 

252 



iHab antfjonp OTiapne 253 

man. In June they started towards the hostile towns, 
with one or two companions, and soon fell in with 
some Indians, who on being shown the white flag, and 
informed of the object of their visit, received them with 
every appearance of good will. But this was merely a 
mask. A few hours later the treacherous savages sud- 
denly fell upon and slew the messengers of peace. The 
Indians never punished the treachery and when the 
chiefs wrote to Washington, they mentioned with cool 
indifference that "you sent us at different times differ- 
ent speeches, the bearers whereof our foolish young 
men killed on their way.*' 

In spite of the murder of the flag-of-truce men, re- 
newed efforts were made to secure a peace by treaty. 
In the fall of 1792 Rufus Putnam, on behalf of the 
United States, succeeded in concluding a treaty with 
the Wabash and Illinois tribes, which at least served 
to keep many of their young braves out of actual hos- 
tilities. In the following spring three commissioners 
— Benjamin Lincoln, Beverly Randolph, and Timothy 
Pickering, all men of note — ^were sent to persuade the 
Miami tribes and their allies to agree to a peace. 

In May, 1793, the commissioners went to Niagara, 
where they held meetings with various Iroquois chiefs 
and exchanged friendly letters with the British officers 
of the posts, who assured them that they would help in 
the effort to conclude a peace. Captain Brant, the Iro- 
quois chief, acted as spokesman for a deputation of the 
hostile Indians from the Miami, where a great council 
was being held, at which not only the northwestern 



254 fflaainning of tfje (Mesit 

tribes, but the Five Nations, were in attendance. The 
commissioners then sailed to the Detroit River, having 
first sent home a strong remonstrance against the activ- 
ity displayed by the new commander on the Ohio, 
Wayne, whose vigorous measures, they said, had 
angered the Indians and were considered by the British 
"unfair and unwarrantable." 

But at Detroit they found they could do nothing. 
Brant and the Iroquois urged the northwestern tribes 
not to yield any point, and promised them help, telling 
the British agent, McKee, evidently to his satisfaction, 
"we came here not only to assist with our advice, but 
other ways, ... we came here with arms in our 
hands"; and they insisted that the country belonged 
to the confederated tribes in common, and so could not 
be surrendered save by all. They refused to consider 
any proposition which did not acknowledge the Ohio 
as the boundary between them and the United States; 
and so, towards the end of August, the commissioners 
returned to report their failure. The final solution of 
the problem was thus left to the sword of Wayne. 

Major-General Anthony Wayne, a Pennsylvanian, 
had been chosen to succeed St. Clair in the command 
of the army; and on him devolved the task of wrest- 
ing victory from the formidable forest tribes, fighting 
in the almost impenetrable wilderness of their own 
country. Of all men, he was the best fitted for the 
work. In the Revolutionary War no other general 
won such a reputation for hard fighting, and for dogged 
courage. By experience he had grown to add caution 



i«ab antftonp OTapne 255 

to his dauntless energy. Once, after the battle of 
Brandywine, when he had pushed close to the enemy, 
with his usual fearless self-confidence, he was sur- 
prised in a night attack by the equally daring British 
general Grey, and his brigade was severely punished 
with the bayonet. It was a lesson he never forgot; it 
did not in any way abate his self-reliance or his fiery 
ardor, but it taught him the necessity of forethought, of 
thorough preparation, and of ceaseless watchfulness. 
A few days later he led the assault at Germantown, 
driving the Hessians before him with the bayonet. 
This was always his favorite weapon ; he had the utmost 
faith in coming to close quarters, and he trained his 
soldiers to trust the steel. At Monmouth he turned the 
fortunes of the day by his stubborn and successful resist- 
ance to the repeated bayonet charges of the Guards and 
Grenadiers. His greatest stroke was the storming of 
Stony Point, where in person he led the midnight rush 
of his troops over the walls of the British fort. He 
fought with his usual hardihood against Cornwallis; 
and at the close of the Revolutionary War he made a 
successful campaign against the Creeks in Georgia. 
During this campaign the Creeks one night tried to 
surprise his camp, and attacked with resolute ferocity, 
putting to flight some of the troops; but Wayne rallied 
them and sword in hand he led them against the savages, 
who were overthrown and driven from the field. 

As soon as Wayne reached the Ohio, in June, 1792, 
he set about reorganizing the army. He had as a 
nucleus the remnant of St. Clair's beaten forces; and 



256 aiaainnins of tfje Wim 

to this were speedily added hundreds of recruits enhsted 
under new legislation by Congress, and shipped to him 
as fast as the recruiting officers could send them. Only 
rigorous and long-continued discipline and exercise under 
a commander both stern and capable, could turn such 
men into soldiers fit for the work Wayne had before him. 
He saw this at once, and realized that a premature 
movement meant nothing but another defeat; and he 
began by careful and patient labor to turn his horde of 
raw recruits into a compact and efficient army, which he 
might use with his customary energy and decision. 
When he took command of the army — or "Legion," as 
he preferred to call it — the one stipulation he made was 
that the campaign should not begin until his ranks were 
full and his men thoroughly disciplined. 

Towards the end of the summer of 1792 he established 
his camp on the Ohio, about twenty-seven miles below 
Pittsburg. He drilled both officers and men with 
unwearied patience, and gradually the officers became 
able to do the drilling themselves, while the men 
acquired the soldierly self-confidence of veterans. As 
the new recruits came in, they found themselves with 
an army which was rapidly learning how to maneuver 
with precision, to obey orders unhesitatingly, and to look 
forward eagerly to a battle with the foe. Throughout 
the winter Wayne kept at work, and by the spring he had 
under him twenty-five hundred regular soldiers who were 
already worthy to be trusted in a campaign. 

In May, 1793, he brought his army down the Ohio to 
Fort Washington (Cincinnati), and near it he estab- 



iHab ^ntfjonp ISHapne 257 

lished a camp which he christened Hobson's Choice. 
Here he was forced to wait the results of the fruitless 
negotiations carried on by the United States Peace 
Commissioners, and it was not until about the ist of 
October that he was given permission to begin the 
campaign. Even when he was allowed to move his 
army forward, he was fettered by injunctions not to 
run any risks. Accordingly he shifted his army to a 
place some eighty miles north of Cincinnati, where he 
encamped for the winter, building a place of strength 
which he named Greeneville in honor of his old com- 
rade in arms. General Greene. He sent forward a 
strong detachment of his troops to the site of St. 
Clair's defeat, where they built a post which was named 
Fort Recovery. The discipline of the army steadily 
improved, though now and then a soldier deserted. 

In the spring of 1794, as soon as the ground was dry, 
Wayne prepared to advance towards the hostile towns 
and force a decisive battle. The mounted riflemen of 
Kentucky, who had been sent home at the beginning 
of winter, again joined him. Among these was Captain 
William Clark, brother of George Rogers Clark, and 
afterwards one of the two famous explorers who first 
crossed the continent to the Pacific. In May, he was 
sent from Fort Washington with twenty dragoons and 
sixty infantry to escort 7CX) pack-horses to Greeneville. 
When he was eighteen miles from Fort Washington, 
Indians attacked his van, driving off^ a few pack-horses; 
but Clark brought up his men from the rear and after 
a smart skirmish put the savages to flight. 



258 OTiinning of tfje ®8les;t 

On the last day of June a determined assault was 
made by the Indians on Fort Recovery, which was gar- 
risoned by about two hundred men. Over two thou- 
sand warriors all told streamed down through the 
woods in long columns, and silently neared the fort. 
Here they found camped close to the walls a party of 
fifty dragoons and ninety riflemen that had escorted a 
brigade of pack-horses from Greeneville the day before, 
and were about to return with the unladen pack-horses. 
But soon after daybreak the Indians rushed their camp. 
Against such overwhelming numbers no effective resist- 
ance could be made. After a few moments' fight the 
men broke and ran to the fort, losing nineteen killed 
and as many wounded, together with two hundred 
pack-horses. 

The Indians, flushed with success and rendered over- 
confident by their immense superiority in numbers, 
made a rush at the fort, hoping to carry it by storm. 
They were beaten back at once with severe loss; for in 
such work they were no match for their foes. They 
then surrounded the fort, kept up a harmless fire all 
day, and renewed it the following morning. In the 
night they bore off their dead, finding them with the 
help of torches; eight or ten of those nearest the fort 
they could not get. They then drew off and marched 
back to the Miami towns. At least twenty-five of them 
had been killed, and a great number wounded. They 
were much disheartened at the check, and the Upper 
Lake Indians began to go home. 

Three weeks after the successful defense of Fort 



jMab aintfjonp WHa^nt 259 

Recovery, Wayne was joined by a large force of 
mounted volunteers from Kentucky, under General 
Scott; and on July 27th he set out towards the Miami 
towns. The Indians who watched his march brought 
word to the British that his army went twice as far in a 
day as St. Clair's, that he kept his scouts well out and 
his troops always in open order and ready for battle; 
that he exercised the greatest precaution to avoid an 
ambush or surprise, and that every night the camps of 
the different regiments were surrounded by breastworks 
of fallen trees so as to render a sudden assault hopeless. 

Wayne showed his capacity as a commander by the 
use he made of his spies or scouts. It was on the fierce 
backwoods riflemen that he chiefly relied for news of 
the Indians; and they served him well. As skilful 
and hardy as the red warriors, much better marksmen, 
and even more daring, they took many scalps, harrying 
the hunting parties, and hanging on the outskirts of 
the big wigwam villages. They captured and brought 
in Indian after Indian, from whom Wayne got valua- 
ble information. 

With his advance effectually covered by his scouts, 
and his army guarded by his own ceaseless vigilance, 
Wayne marched without opposition to the confluence 
of the Glaize and the Maumee, where the hostile Indian 
villages began, and whence they stretched to below the 
British fort. The savages were taken by surprise and 
fled without offering opposition ; while Wayne halted, on 
August 8th, and spent a week in building a strong log 
stockade, with four good block-houses as bastions; he 



26o Minnmg: of tfje MesJt 

christened the work Fort Defiance. The Indians had 
cleared and tilled immense fields, and the troops reveled 
in the fresh vegetables and ears of roasted corn, and 
enjoyed the rest, for during the march the labor of cut- 
ting a road through the thick forest had been very 
severe, while the water was bad and the mosquitoes 
were exceedingly troublesome. 

From Fort Defiance Wayne sent a final offer of peace 
to the Indians, summoning them at once to send depu- 
ties to meet him. The letter was carried by Christo- 
pher Miller, and a Shawnee prisoner; and in it Wayne 
explained that Miller was a Shawnee by adoption, 
whom his soldiers had captured **six months since," 
while the Shawnee warrior had been taken but a couple 
of days before; and he warned the Indians that he had 
seven Indian prisoners, who had been well treated, but 
who would be put to death if Miller were harmed. The 
Indians did not molest Miller, but sought to obtain 
delay, and would give no definite answer; whereupon 
Wayne advanced against them, having laid waste and 
destroyed all their villages and fields. 

His army marched on the 15th, and on the i8th 
reached Roche du Bout, by the Maumee Rapids, only a 
few miles from the British fort. Next day was spent 
in building a rough breastwork to protect the stores and 
baggage and in reconnoitering the Indian position, which 
was close to the British. 

On August 20, 1794, Wayne marched to battle against 
the Indians. They lay about six miles down the river, 
near the British fort, in a place known as the Fallen 



illab antfjonp OTiapne 261 

Timbers, because there the thick forest had been over- 
turned by a whirlwind, and the dead trees lay piled 
across one another in rows. All the baggage was left 
behind in the breastwork, with a sufficient guard. The 
army numbered about three thousand men; two thou- 
sand were regulars, and there were a thousand mounted 
volunteers from Kentucky under General Scott. 

The army marched down the left or north branch of 
the Maumee. A small force of mounted volunteers — 
Kentucky militia — ^were in front. On the right flank 
the squadron of dragoons, the regular cavalry, marched 
next to the river. The infantry were formed in two 
long lines, the second some little distance behind the 
first; the left of the first line being continued by the 
companies of regular riflemen and light troops. Scott, 
with the body of the mounted volunteers, was thrown 
out on the left with instructions to turn the flank of the 
Indians, thus efi^ectually preventing them from perform- 
ing a similar feat at the expense of the Americans. 

The Indians stretched in a line nearly two miles 
long at right angles to the river, and began the battle 
confidently enough. They attacked and drove in the 
volunteers who were in advance and the firing then 
began along the entire front. But their success was 
momentary. Wayne ordered the first line of the in- 
fantry to advance with trailed arms, so as to rouse the 
savages from their cover, then to fire into their backs at 
close range, and to follow them hard with the bayonet, 
so as to give them no time to load. The regular cavalry 
were directed to charge the left flank of the enemy; 



262 aaainnins of tfje OTiesit 

for Wayne had determined " to put the horse-hoof on 
the moccasin." Both orders were executed with spirit 
and vigor. 

It would have been difficult to find more unfavorable 
ground for cavalry; nevertheless the dragoons rode 
against their foes at a gallop, with broadswords swing- 
ing, the horses dodging in and out among the trees and 
jumping the fallen logs. They received a fire at close 
quarters which emptied a dozen saddles, both captains 
being shot down; but they burst among the savages at 
full speed, and routed them in a moment. 

At the same time the first line of the infantry charged 
with equal impetuosity and success. The Indians de- 
livered one volley and were then roused from their 
hiding-places with the bayonet; as they fled they were 
shot down, and if they attempted to halt they were at 
once assailed and again driven with the bayonet. They 
could make no stand at all, and the battle was won 
with ease. So complete was the success that only the 
first line of regulars was able to take part in the fight- 
ing; the second line, and Scott's horse-riflemen on the 
left, in spite of their exertions, were unable to reach 
the battle-field until the Indians were driven from it; 
"there not being a sufficiency of the enemy for the 
Legion to play on," wrote Clark. The entire action 
lasted under forty minutes. Less than a thousand of 
the Americans were actually engaged. They pursued 
the beaten and fleeing Indians for two miles, the cavalry 
halting only when under the walls of the British fort. 

Thirty-three of the Americans were killed and one 



iWab antfjonp Wiavnt 263 

hundred wounded. The Indians lost two or three 
times as many. It was the most complete and impor- 
tant victory ever gained over the northwestern Indians 
during the forty years' warfare to which it put an end ; 
and it was the only considerable pitched battle in which 
they lost more than their foes. They suffered heavily 
among their leaders; no less than eight Wyandot chiefs 
were slain. 

From the fort the British had seen, with shame and 
anger, the rout of their Indian allies. Their comman- 
der wrote to Wayne to demand his intentions. Wayne 
responded that he thought they were made sufficiently 
evident by his successful battle with the savages. The 
Englishman wrote in resentment of this curt reply, 
complaining that Wayne's soldiers had approached 
within pistol-shot of the fort, and threatening to fire 
upon them if the offense was repeated. Wayne re- 
sponded by summoning him to abandon the fort; a 
summons which he of course refused to heed. Wayne 
then gave orders to destroy everything up to the very 
walls of the fort, and his commands were carried out to 
the letter; not only were the Indian villages burned 
and their crops cut down, but all the houses and 
buildings of the British agents and traders, including 
McKee's, were leveled to the ground. The British 
commander did not dare to interfere or make good his 
threats; nor, on the other hand, did Wayne dare to 
storm the fort, which was well built and heavily armed. 

After completing his work of destruction, Wayne 
marched his army back to Fort Defiance. Here he 



264 OTinning of tfie OTesit 

was obliged to halt for over a fortnight while he sent 
back to Fort Recovery for provisions. He employed 
the time in work on the fort, which he strengthened so 
that it would stand an attack by a regular army. 

On September 14th the Legion started westward 
towards the Miami towns at the junction of the St. 
Mary's and St. Joseph rivers, the scene of Harmar's 
disaster. In four days the towns were reached, the 
Indians being too cowed to ofifer resistance. Here the 
army spent six weeks, burned the towns and destroyed 
the fields and stores of the hostile tribes, and built a 
fort which was christened Fort Wayne. The mounted 
volunteers grew mutinous, but were kept in order by 
their commander, Scott, a rough, capable backwoods 
soldier. Their term of service at length expired and 
they were sent home; and the regulars of the Legion, 
leaving a garrison at Fort Wayne, marched back to 
Greeneville, and reached it on November 2d, just three 
months and six days after they started from it on their 
memorable and successful expedition. Wayne had 
shown himself the best general ever sent to war with the 
northwestern Indians; and his victorious campaign was 
the most noteworthy ever carried on against them, for it 
brought about the first lasting peace on the border. It 
was one of the most striking and weighty feats in the 
winning of the West. 

The battle of the Fallen Timbers opened the eyes of 
the Indians to the fact that, though the British would 
urge them to fight, and would secretly aid them, yet in 
the last resort the King's troops would not come to 



OfiniioBmilirloiM 



Wit^t 



Michilimackinac 

Redrawn from an early print 



pent r 



uiree 



io:^i<^n V.' 



peace 



to 



ifHab antfjonp OTapnc 265 

their help by proceeding to actual war. Accordingly- 
all their leaders recognized that it was time to make 
peace. 

In November, the Wyandots from Sandusky sent 
ambassadors to Wayne at Greeneville. Wayne spoke 
to them with his usual force and frankness. He told 
them he pitied them for their folly in listening to the 
British, who were very glad to urge them to fight and to 
give them ammunition, but who had neither the power 
nor the inclination to help them, when the time of trial 
came; that hitherto the Indians had felt only the 
weight of his little finger, but that he would surely 
destroy all the tribes in the near future, if they did not 
make peace. They went away much surprised, and 
resolved on peace; and the other tribes followed their 
example. 

This was followed in the summer of 1795 by the for- 
mal Treaty of Greeneville, at which Wayne, on behalf 
of the United States, made a definite peace with all the 
northwestern tribes. No less than eleven hundred and 
thirty Indians were present at the treaty grounds, 
including a full delegation from every hostile tribe. All 
solemnly covenanted to keep the peace; and they 
agreed to surrender to the whites all of what is now 
southern Ohio and southeastern Indiana, and various 
reservations elsewhere, as at Fort Wayne, Fort Defiance, 
Detroit, and Michilimackinac, the lands around the 
French towns, and the hundred and fifty thousand 
acres near the Falls of the Ohio, which had been allotted 
to Clark and his soldiers. The Government, in its 



266 aaimmns of tfje OTesit 

turn, acknowledged the Indian title to the remaining 
territory, and agreed to pay the tribes annuities aggre- 
gating nine thousand five hundred dollars. All pris- 
oners on both sides were restored. 

Wayne had brought peace by the sword. It was the 
first time the border had been quiet for over a genera- 
tion; and for fifteen years the quiet lasted unbroken. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

THE PURCHASE OF LOUISIANA, 1803 

THE growth of the West was very rapid in the 
years immediately succeeding the peace with 
the Indians and the treaties with England 
and Spain. As the settlers poured into what had been 
the Indian-haunted wilderness it speedily became 
necessary to cut it into political divisions. Kentucky 
had already been admitted as a State in 1792; Tennessee 
likewise became a State in 1796, and the Territory 
of Mississippi was organized in 1798 to include the 
country west of Georgia and south of Tennessee, which 
had been ceded by the Spaniards under Pinckney's 
treaty. 

Statesmen and diplomats have some share in shaping 
the conditions under which a country is finally taken; 
in the eye of history they often usurp much more than 
their proper share; but in reality they are able to bring 
matters to a conclusion only because adventurous set- 
tlers, in defiance or disregard of governmental action, 
have pressed forward into the longed-for land. The 
vital question as to whether the land shall be taken at 
all, upon no matter what terms, is answered not by the 

diplomats, but by the people themselves. The settlers 

267 



268 aaainning of tfje IMtit 

had already thronged into the disputed territories or 
strenuously pressed forward against their boundaries. 

So it was with the acquisition of Louisiana, which 
was to be the next step in the winning of the West. 
Jefferson, Livingston, and their fellow-statesmen and 
diplomats concluded the treaty which determined the 
manner in which it came into our possession; but they 
did not really have much to do with fixing the terms 
even of this treaty; for the Americans would have won 
the region in any event. The real history of the acqui- 
sition of Louisiana is the story of the great westward 
movement begun in 1769. 

The Spanish rulers realized fully that they were too 
weak effectively to cope with the Americans, and, as the 
pressure upon them grew ever heavier and more men- 
acing, they began to fear not only for Louisiana but also 
for Mexico. They clung tenaciously to all their pos- 
sessions; but they were willing to sacrifice a part, if by 
so doing they could erect a barrier for the defense of 
the remainder. The needs of the Spaniards seemed to 
Napoleon his opportunity. By the bribe of a petty Ital- 
ian principality, he persuaded the Bourbon King of 
Spain to cede Louisiana to the French, at the treaty of 
San Ildefonso, concluded in October, 1800. The ces- 
sion was agreed to by the Spaniards on the express 
pledge that the territory should not be transferred to 
any other power, and chiefly for the purpose of erect- 
ing a barrier which might stay the American advance, 
and protect the rest of the Spanish possessions. 

Every effort was made to keep the cession from being 




smodifiO .0 .0 niBilliY/ 

laqqfiriD vd sniinifiq sdl io gmvcisna ns moil 




tiiroagea lutu tne aibpucea Lcrritories or 
-^-^ssed forward against their boundn-^-" 

^.., .. ...... -ith the acquisition of Louisiana, v> 

was to be the next sten in the winning of the West. 
Jefferson, Livingsi ^ their fellow-statesmen and 

diplomats concluded the h determined the 

)Ssession ; but they 
h fixing the terms 



WiUiam C. C. Claiborne 

From an engraving of the painting by Chappel 



lot only foi out also 

)usly to ail their pos- 
sacrifice 

for the fji:jt:i: 

, .11^ ^.paniards seemt., 
v the bribe of n nettv Ttn! 

ihe Bourb. 
e French, at the treaty of 
October, 1800. The ce^ 
■ aiards on the 
: be transterr. 
lor ilie purpose of erccc- 
ay the American adv"* ' ' 
■^^nish possessions. 

the cession from beinq 



STfje ^urcjjasie of TLonimna, 1803 269 

made public, and owing to various political complica- 
tions it was not consummated for a couple of years; 
but meanwhile it was impossible to prevent rumors 
from going abroad, and the mere hint of such a 
project was enough to throw the West into a fever of 
excitement. 

Even Jefferson, the least warlike of presidents, could 
see that for France to take Louisiana meant war 
with the United States sooner or later; and as, above 
all things else, he desired peace he made every effort to 
secure the coveted territory by purchase. 

It was, however, no argument of Jefferson's or of the 
American diplomats, Livingston and Monroe, but the 
inevitable trend of events that finally brought about 
a change in Napoleon's mind. The army he sent to 
Hayti wasted away by disease and in combat with the 
blacks, and thereby not only diminished the forces he 
intended to throw into Louisiana, but also gave him a 
terrible object lesson as to what the fate of these forces 
was certain ultimately to be. The attitude of England 
and Austria grew steadily more hostile, and his most 
trustworthy advisers impressed on Napoleon's mind 
the steady growth of the Western-American communi- 
ties, and the implacable hostility with which they were 
certain to regard any power that seized or attempted to 
hold New Orleans. So Livingston was astonished to 
find that Napoleon had suddenly changed front, and 
that there was every prospect of gaining what for 
months had seemed impossible. For some time there 
was haggling over the terms. Napoleon, having once 



270 Winning cf tfie Wesit 

made up his mind to part with Louisiana, rapidly- 
abated his demands; and the cession was finally made 
for fifteen millions of dollars. 

Meanwhile in March, 1803, the French Prefect, 
Laussat, arrived to take possession of Louisiana for his 
own government. He had no idea that Napoleon in- 
tended to cede it to the United States. On. the con- 
trary, he showed that he regarded the French as the 
heirs, not only to the Spanish territory, but of the 
Spanish hostility to the Americans, and he made all his 
preparations as if New Orleans was to become the cen- 
ter of an aggressive military government. There was 
much friction between him and the Spanish oflftcials; he 
complained bitterly to the home government of the 
insolence and intrigues of the Spanish party. He also 
portrayed in scathing terms the gross corruption of the 
Spanish authorities. 

Laussat soon discovered with chagrin that he was 
to turn the country over to the Americans almost 
immediately. This change in the French attitude 
greatly increased the friction with the Spaniards. The 
Spanish home government was furious with indignation 
at Napoleon for having violated his word, and only 
the weakness of Spain prevented war between it and 
France. It was not until December i, 1803, that Laus- 
sat took final possession of the provinces. Twenty days 
afterwards he turned them over to the American 
authorities. 

Naturally there was a fertile field for seditious agita- 
tion in New Orleans, a city of mixed population, where 



®f)e ^urcfjasie of Houisiiana, 1803 271 

the numerically predominant race felt a puzzled distrust 
for the nation of which it suddenly found itself an 
integral part, and from past experience firmly believed 
in the evanescent nature of any political connection it 
might have, whether with Spain, France, or the United 
States. The Creoles murmured because they were not 
given the same privileges as American citizens in the 
old States, and yet showed themselves indifferent to 
such privileges as they were given. They were indig- 
nant because the National Government prohibited the 
importation of slaves into Louisiana, and for the 
moment even the transfer thither of slaves from the old 
States. Representatives of the French and Spanish 
governments still remained in Louisiana, and by their 
presence and their words tended to keep alive a dis- 
affection for the United States Government. 

Furthermore, there already existed in New Orleans a 
very peculiar class, later known as filibusters. They 
were men ready at any time to enter into any plot 
for armed conquest of one of the Spanish-American 
countries. They did not care in the least what form 
the expedition took. They were willing to join the 
Mexican exiles in an effort to rouse Mexico to throw 
off the yoke of Spain, or to aid any province of Mex- 
ico to revolt from the rest, or to help the leaders of 
any defeated faction who wished to try an appeal to 
arms. 

Under such conditions New Orleans, even more than 
the rest of the West, seemed to offer an inviting field 
for adventurers whose aim was both revolutionary and 



272 Minning of tfte OTesit 

piratical. A particularly spectacular adventurer of this 
type now appeared in the person of Aaron Burr. His 
career had been striking. He had been Vice-President 
of the United States. He had lacked but one vote of 
being made President, when the election of 1800 was 
thrown into the House of Representatives. As friend or 
as enemy he had been thrown intimately and on equal 
terms with the greatest political leaders of the day. 
There was not a man in the country who did not know 
about the brilliant and unscrupulous party leader who 
had killed Hamilton, and who, by a nearly successful 
intrigue, had come within one vote of defeating Jeffer- 
son for the presidency. 

In New York, Aaron Burr had shown himself as 
adroit as he was unscrupulous in the use of all the arts 
of the machine manager. In the State he was the 
leader of the Democratic party, which under his lead 
crushed the Federalists; and as a reward he was given 
the second highest office in the nation. Then his open 
enemies and secret rivals all combined against him. 
He made an obstinate fight to hold his own; but he 
was hopelessly beaten. Both his fortune and his local 
political prestige were ruined; he realized that his 
chance for a career in New York was over. 

He was, however, a statesman of national reputation; 
and he turned his restless eyes toward the West, which 
for a score of years had seethed in a turmoil out of 
which it seemed that a bold spirit might make its own 
profit. He had already been obscurely connected with 
separatist intrigues in the Northeast; and he deter- 



®f)e ^urcfjasie of louisiiana, 1803 273 

mined to embark in similar intrigues on an infinitely 
grander scale in the West and Southwest. 

It is small wonder that the conspiracy, of which such 
a man was head, should make a noise out of all propor- 
tion to its real weight. The conditions were such 
that if Burr journeyed west he was certain to attract 
universal attention and to be received with marked 
enthusiasm. No man of his prominence in national 
affairs had ever traveled through the wild new common- 
wealths on the Mississippi. The men who were found- 
ing states and building towns on the wreck of the 
conquered wilderness were sure to be flattered by the 
appearance of so notable a man among them, and to be 
impressed not only by his reputation, but by his charm 
of manner and brilliancy of intellect. 

But the time for separatist movements in the West 
had passed, while the time for arousing the West to 
the conquest of part of Spanish-America had hardly 
yet come. With the purchase of Louisiana all deep- 
lying causes of Western discontent had vanished. The 
West was prosperous, and was attached to the National 
Government. Its leaders might still enjoy a discussion 
with Burr or among themselves concerning separatist 
principles in the abstract, but nobody of any weight in 
the community would allow such plans as those of Burr 
to be put into effect. 

Burr's career, however, was already ruined. Jeffer- 
son had issued a proclamation for his arrest; and even 
before this, the fabric of the conspiracy had crumbled 
into shifting dust. There was no real support for Burr 



274 



OTiinning of tlje OTie^t 



anywhere. All his plot had been but a dream; at the 
last he could not do anything which justified, in even 
the smallest degree, the alarm and curiosity he had 
excited. He was put on trial for high treason, but he 
was acquitted on a technicality. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

THE EXPLORERS OF THE FAR WEST, 1804-1807 

THE Far West, the West beyond the Mississippi, 
had been thrust on Jefferson, and given to the 
nation, by the rapid growth of the Old West, 
the West that lay between the Alleghanies and the 
Mississippi. The next step was to explore this territory 
thus newly added to the national domain, for nobody 
knew much about it. 

The first of several expeditions to explore this vast 
region was planned by Jefferson himself and author- 
ized by Congress. Nominally its purpose was to find 
out the most advantageous places for the establishment 
of trading stations with the Indian tribes; but in reality 
it was purely a voyage of exploration, planned with 
intent to ascend the Missouri to its head, and thence to 
cross the continent to the Pacific. The explorers were 
carefully instructed to report upon the geography, 
physical characteristics, and zoology of the region 
traversed, as well as upon its wild human denizens. 

The two officers chosen to carry through the work 
belonged to families already honorably distinguished 
for service on the Western border. One was Captain 
Meriwether Lewis, representatives of whose family had 

275 



276 aaainning of tfje Witit 

served so prominently in Dunmore's war; the other 
was Lieutenant WilHam Clark, a younger brother of 
George Rogers Clark. Clark had served with credit 
through Wayne's campaigns, and had taken part in 
the victory of the Fallen Timbers. Lewis had seen 
his first service when he enlisted as a private in the 
forces which were marshaled to put down the whisky 
insurrection. Later he served under Clark in Wayne's 
army. He had also been President Jefferson's private 
secretary. 

The young officers started on their trip accompanied 
by twenty-seven men who intended to make the whole 
journey. Of this number one, the interpreter and 
incidentally the best hunter in the party, was a half- 
breed; two were French voyageurs, one was a negro 
servant of Clark, nine were volunteers from Kentucky, 
and fourteen were regular soldiers. All, however, 
except the black slave, were enlisted in the army before 
starting, so that they might be kept under regular 
discipline. In addition to these twenty-seven men 
there were seven soldiers and nine voyageurs who 
started to go only to the Mandan villages on the Mis- 
souri, where the party intended to spend the first winter. 
They embarked in three large boats, abundantly sup- 
plied with arms, powder, and lead, clothing, gifts for the 
Indians, and provisions. 

From St. Louis the explorers pushed oflp in May, 
1804, and soon began stemming the strong current of 
the muddy Missouri, to whose unknown sources they 
intended to ascend. For two or three weeks they 



arfte €xplorer£( of tfje Jf ar WlSit^t 277 

occasionally passed farms and hamlets — the most 
important being St. Charles, where the people were all 
Creoles. The explorers in their journal commented 
upon the good temper and vivacity of these habitants, 
but dwelt on the shiftlessness they displayed and their 
readiness to sink back towards savagery, although 
they were brave and hardy enough. The next most 
considerable town was peopled mainly by Americans; 
while the last squalid little village they passed claimed 
as one of its occasional residents old Daniel Boone 
himself. 

As the party gradually worked its way northwest- 
ward, it began to come upon those characteristic 
animals of the Great Plains — the buffalo and elk in 
astounding numbers; the pronghorned antelope, the 
blacktail deer, the coyotes, whose uncanny wailing 
after nightfall varied the sinister baying of the gray 
wolves; and notably the prairie dogs, whose populous 
villages awakened the lively curiosity of Lewis and 
Clark. 

In their note-books the two captains faithfully de- 
scribed all these new animals and all the strange sights 
they saw in a narrative singularly accurate and entirely 
free from boastfulness and exaggeration. But what was 
of greater importance, the two young captains kept 
good discipline among the men; they never hesitated 
to punish severely any wrong-doer; but they were 
never over-severe; and as they did their full part of the 
work, and ran all the risks and suffered all the hard- 
ship exactly like the other members of the expedition, 



278 Minnins of tfje OTesit 

they were regarded by their followers with devoted 
affection, and were served with loyalty and cheerfulness. 

With all the Indian tribes the two explorers held 
councils, and distributed presents, especially medals, 
among the head chiefs and warriors, informing them 
of the transfer of the territory from Spain to the United 
States. The Indians all professed much satisfaction at 
the change, which of course they did not in the least 
understand, and for which they cared nothing. This 
easy acquiescence gave much groundless satisfaction to 
Lewis and Clark, who further strove to make each 
tribe swear peace with its neighbors. After some hesi- 
tation the tribes usually consented to this, and as 
promptly went to war again, for in reality the Indians 
had only the vaguest idea as to what was meant by 
the ceremonies and the hoisting of the American flag. 

As the fall weather grew cold, the party reached the 
Mandan village, where they halted and went into camp 
for the winter, building huts and a stout stockade 
which they christened Fort Mandan. 

In the spring of 1805, Lewis and Clark again started 
westward, first sending downstream ten of their com- 
panions, to carry home the notes of their trip so far 
and a few valuable specimens. The party that started 
westward numbered thirty-two adults all told; for one 
sergeant had died, and two or three persons had volun- 
teered at the Mandan villages, including a rather worth- 
less French "squaw-man," with an intelligent Indian 
wife, whose baby was but a few weeks old. 

From the Little Missouri on to the head of the Mis- 



innq bio n& moi'T 



^h..:.: ■:.-.A.'y- --yi- ^It^t 



rh by tb vith devote 

aflcLtioii, aiiu i"ved witii loyalty aad cheerfulne 

VVitb a"' an tribes the two explorers he; 

to ' *^ ^ ^^^ especially m^"' ' 

)rs, inform'''^ 
Snain to r 



^j 



A Mandan Village 

From an old print 



into camp 

to. 1e 



rlipir fill! 



arfje explorers; of tfje jFar Wiz^t 279 

souri proper the explorers passed through a region lit- 
erally swarming with game. In their journals they 
dwelt continually on the innumerable herds they en- 
countered both while traveling upstream and again 
the following year when they were returning. Ordi- 
narily all the kinds of game were very tame. Sometimes 
one of the many herds of elk that lay boldly, even at 
midday, on the sand-bars, or on the brush-covered 
points, would wait until the explorers were within 
twenty yards of them before starting. The buffalo 
would scarcely move out of the path at all, and the 
bulls sometimes, even when unmolested, threatened to 
assail the hunters. Once, on the return voyage, when 
Clark was descending the Yellowstone River, a vast 
herd of buffalo, swimming and wading, plowed its way 
across the stream where it was a mile broad, in a col- 
umn so thick that the explorers had to draw up on 
shore and wait for an hour, until it passed by, before 
continuing their journey. Two or three times the 
expedition was thus brought to a halt; and as the buffalo 
were so plentiful, and so easy to kill, and as their flesh 
was very good, they were the mainstay for the explor- 
ers' table. Both going and returning this wonderful 
hunting country was a place of plenty. 

There was one kind of game which they at times 
found altogether too familiar. This was the grizzly 
bear. They found that the Indians greatly feared 
these bears, and after their first encounters they them- 
selves treated them with much respect. Again and 
again these huge bears attacked the explorers of their 



280 OTinnins of tfje OTesit 

own accord, when neither molested nor threatened. 
They galloped after the hunters when they met them on 
horseback even in the open; and they attacked them 
just as freely when they found them on foot. To go 
through the brush was dangerous; again and again 
one or another of the party was charged and forced to 
take to a tree, at the foot of which the bear sometimes 
mounted guard for hours before going off. When 
wounded, the beasts fought with desperate courage, and 
showed astonishing tenacity of life, charging any num- 
ber of assailants, and succumbing but slowly even to 
mortal wounds. In one case a bear that was on shore 
actually plunged into the water and swam out to 
attack one of the canoes as it passed. 

As they journeyed upstream through the bright 
summer weather, though they worked hard, it was 
work of a kind which was but a long holiday. At 
nightfall they camped by the boats on the river bank. 
Each day some of the party spent in hunting, either 
along the river-bottoms through the groves of cotton- 
woods with shimmering, rustling leaves, or away from 
the river where the sunny prairies stretched into seas 
of brown grass, or where groups of rugged hills stood, 
fantastic in color and outline, and with stunted pines 
growing on the sides of their steep ravines. The only 
real suffering was that which occasionally befell some- 
one who got lost, and was out for days at a time, until 
he exhausted all his powder and lead before finding the 
party. 

Fall had nearly come when they reached the head- 



arfte €xplorer£f of tfje jFar OTesit 281 

waters of the Missouri. The end of the holiday-time 
was at hand, for they had before them the labor of 
crossing the great mountains so as to strike the head- 
waters of the Columbia. Their success at this point 
depended somewhat upon the Indian wife of the 
Frenchman who had joined them at Mandan. She 
had been captured from one of the Rocky Mountain 
tribes, and they relied on her as interpreter. Partly 
through her aid, and partly by their own exertions, 
they were able to find, and make friends with, a band 
of wandering Shoshones, from whom they got horses. 
Having cached their boats and most of their goods they 
started westward through the forest-clad passes of the 
Rockies, where the game was far less abundant than 
on the plains and far harder to kill. The work was 
hard, and the party suffered much from toil and hun- 
ger before they struck one of the tributaries of the 
Snake sufficiently low down to enable them once more 
to go by boat. 

They now met many Indians of various tribes, all of 
them very different from the Indians of the western 
plains. At this time the Indians, both east and west 
of the Rockies, already owned numbers of horses. 
Although they had a few guns, they relied mainly on the 
spears and tomahawks, and the bows and arrows with 
which they had warred and hunted from time immemo- 
rial. Around the mouth of the Columbia, however, the 
explorers found that the Indians knew a good deal about 
the whites; the river had been discovered by Captain 
Gray of Boston thirteen years before, and ships came 



282 OTinning of tfje OTest 

there continually; while some of the Indian tribes were 
occasionally visited by traders from the British fur 
companies. 

With one or two of these tribes the explorers had 
some difficulty, and owed their safety to their unceas- 
ing vigilance, and to the prompt decision with which 
they gave the Indians to understand that they would 
tolerate no bad treatment, while they themselves re- 
frained carefully from committing any wrong. By 
most of the tribes they were well received, and obtained 
from them not only information of the route, but also a 
welcome supply of food. At first they rather shrank 
from eating the dogs which formed the favorite dish of 
the Indians; but after a while they grew quite recon- 
ciled to dog's flesh; and in their journals noted that 
they preferred it to lean elk and deer meat, and were 
much more healthy while eating it. 

They had reached the Pacific coast before cold 
weather set in, and there they passed the winter. In 
March, 1806, they started eastward to retrace their 
steps. At first they did not live well, for it was before 
the time when the salmon came upstream, and game 
was not common. When they reached the snow-cov- 
ered mountains, there came another period of toil and 
starvation, and they were glad indeed when they 
emerged once more on the happy hunting-grounds 
of the Great Plains. They found their caches undis- 
turbed. Early in July they separated for a time, 
Clark descending the Yellowstone and Lewis the 
Missouri, until they met at the junction of the two 



13vlH snocfawoIbY edJ nr 

dqer^olodq b mon'i 



View on the Yellowstone River 

From a photograph 



arbe explorers; of tfje jFar Wit^t 283 

rivers. The party which went down the Yellowstone 
at one time split into two, Clark taking command of 
one division, and a sergeant of the other; they built 
their own canoes, some of them made out of hollowed 
trees, while the others were bull boats, made of buffalo 
hides stretched on a frame. 

To Lewis there befell several adventures. Once, 
while he was out with three men, a party of eight 
Blackfoot warriors joined them and suddenly made a 
treacherous attack upon them and strove to carry off 
their guns and horses. But the wilderness veterans 
sprang to arms with a readiness that had become 
second nature. One of them killed an Indian with a 
knife thrust; Lewis himself shot another Indian, and 
the remaining six fled, carrying with them one of 
Lewis' horses, but losing four of their own, which the 
whites captured. This was the beginning of the long 
series of bloody skirmishes between the Blackfeet and 
the Rocky Mountain explorers and trappers. Clark, 
at about the same time, suffered at the hands of the 
Crows, who stole a number of his horses. 

None of the party was hurt by the Indians, but, some 
time after the skirmish with the Blackfeet, Lewis was 
accidentally shot by one of the Frenchmen of the party 
and suffered much from the wound. Near the mouth 
of the Yellowstone Clark joined him, and the reunited 
company floated down the Missouri. Before they 
reached the Mandan villages they encountered two 
white men, the first strangers of their own color the 
party had seen for a year and a half. These were two 



284 OTinning of tfje WBt^t 

American hunters named Dickson and Hancock, who 
were going up to trap along the headwaters of the 
Missouri on their own account. They had come from 
the IlUnois country a year before, to hunt and trap; 
they had been plundered, and one of them wounded, 
in an encounter with the fierce Sioux, but were undaunt- 
edly pushing forwards into the unknown wilderness 
towards the mountains. 

These two hardy and daring adventurers formed the 
vanguard of the bands of hunters and trappers, the 
famous Rocky Mountain men, who were to roam hither 
and thither across the great West in lawless freedom 
for the next three quarters of a century. They accom- 
panied the party back to the Mandan village; there 
Colter, one of the soldiers, joined them, so fascinated by 
the life of the wilderness that he was not willing to 
leave it. He proved to be the first to explore Yellow- 
stone Park. The three turned their canoe upstream, 
while Lewis and Clark and the rest of the party drifted 
down past the Sioux, and after an uneventful voyage 
reached St. Louis in September, and forwarded to 
Jefferson an account of what they had done. 

Close on their tracks followed the hunters, trappers, 
and fur traders who themselves made ready the way for 
the settlers whose descendants were to possess the land. 
As for the two leaders of the explorers, Lewis was soon 
made Governor of Louisiana Territory; and Clark was 
afterwards Governor of the same territory, when its 
name had been changed to Missouri. Neither of them 
did anything further of note; nor indeed was it neces- 



^fje explorers; of tfje Jfar Wit^t 285 

sary, for they had performed a feat which will always 
give them a place on the honor roll of American worthies. 

While Lewis and Clark were recrossing the continent 
from the Pacific coast, another army officer was con- 
ducting explorations which were only less important 
than theirs. This was Lieut. Zebulon Montgomery 
Pike. He was not by birth a Westerner, being from 
New Jersey, the son of an officer of the Revolutionary 
army; but his name will always be indelibly associated 
with the West. 

Setting out from St. Louis in August, 1805, Pike 
turned his face towards the headwaters of the Missis- 
sippi, his purpose being both to explore the sources of 
that river, and to show to the Indians, and to the Brit- 
ish fur traders among them, that the United States was 
sovereign over the country in fact as well as in theory. 
He started in a large keel boat, with twenty soldiers of 
the regular army. He and his regulars were forced to 
be their own pioneers and to do their own hunting, 
until, by dint of hard knocks and hard work, they grew 
experts, both as riflemen and woodsmen. 

The expedition occasionally encountered parties of 
Indians. Pike handled them well, and speedily brought 
those with whom he came into contact to a proper frame 
of mind, showing good temper and at the same time 
prompt vigor in putting down any attempt at bullying. 
On the journey upstream only one misadventure befell 
the party. A couple of the men got lost while hunting 
and did not find the boat for six days, by which time 
they were nearly starved, having used up all their 



286 aaiinnins of tjje WHt^t 

ammunition, so that they could not shoot game. The 
winter was spent in what is now Minnesota. Pike 
made a permanent camp, where he kept most of his 
men, while he himself traveled hither and thither, 
using dog sleds after the snow fell. They lived on 
game: Pike, after the first enthusiasm of the sport had 
palled a little, commented on the hard slavery of a 
hunter's life and its vicissitudes; for on one day he 
might kill enough meat to last the whole party a week 
and, when that was exhausted, they might go three or 
four days without anything at all. 

In his search for the source of the Mississippi he 
penetrated deep into the lovely lake-dotted region of 
forests and prairies which surrounds the headwaters 
of the river. He did not reach Lake Itasca; but he 
did explore the Leech Lake drainage system, which 
he mistook for the true source. In the spring he 
floated downstream and reached St. Louis on the last 
day of April, 1806. 

In July he was again sent out, this time on a far more 
dangerous and important trip. He was to march west 
to the Rocky Mountains, and explore the country 
towards the head of the Rio Grande, where the bound- 
ary line between Mexico and Louisiana was very 
vaguely determined. His party, numbering twenty- 
three all told, was accompanied by fifty Osage Indians, 
chiefly women and children who had been captured by 
the Pottawattamies, and whose release and return to 
their homes had been brought about by the efforts of 
the United States Government. The presence of these 



miiBD yd aiuJoiq c moil n-fterb^Sl 



1^ 



ISaimmiiii uf tbe Witiii 

ammuaition, so that they couI( oot game, 

wimter innesoi 

made e ne kept most 

men, v a.- m-- i; ■ > . » .ivcied hither and * 
us'-^ ' ' - '"ds after the sno'^' ^^^^ They 
i^:'. fter the first entb of the ■ ,, 

palled 1 .!'tr Td slaver 

hunte 
might 



St. Louis in the Early Part of the 19th 
Century 

Redrawn from a picture by Catlin 



wouis on the las 

., this time on a far mo 
^ ^e was to march we^ 

..i»v. explore thf rr,,,r,l-_ 

Grande, where t' 
.ouisia.' 

: by fifty Osage Indians 
een captui 
ad ret I 
aogut Dy the efforts - 



arfje explorers; of tfje Jf ar OTesit 287 

redeemed captives of course kept the Osages in good 
humor with Pike's party. 

The party ascended the Osage River as far as it was 
navigable. They then procured horses and traveled to 
the great Pawnee village known as the Pawnee Repub- 
lic, which gave its name to the Republican River. A 
Spanish military expedition, several hundred strong, 
had anticipated them, by traveling through the debat- 
able land, and by seeking to impress upon the Indians 
that the power of the Spanish nation was still supreme. 
Pike, however, had small difficulty in getting the 
chiefs and warriors of the village to hoist the American 
flag instead of the Spanish ones that had just been left 
with them. But they showed a very decided disin- 
clination to let him continue his journey westward. 
With perfect good temper, he gave them to understand 
that he would use force if they ventured to bar his pas- 
sage; and they finally let him go by. Later he had a 
somewhat similar experience with a large Pawnee war 
party. 

The explorers had now left behind them the fertile, 
tree-clad country, and had entered on the Great Plains, 
across which they journeyed to the Arkansas, and then 
up that river. All the early travelers seem to have 
been almost equally impressed by the interminable seas 
of grass, the strange, shifting rivers, and the swarming 
multitudes of the huge, shaggy-maned bison. No other 
wild animal of the same size, in any part of the world, 
existed in such incredible numbers. 

When the party reached the Arkansas late in October, 



288 atsainning of tfje OTesit 

four or five of the men journeyed down it and returned 
to the settled country. The others struck westward 
into the mountains, and late in November reached the 
neighborhood of the bold peak which was later named 
after Pike himself. 

When winter set in with great severity soon after- 
wards, the blacktail deer, upon which the party had 
begun to rely for meat, migrated to the wintering 
grounds, and the explorers suffered even more from 
hunger than from cold. The horses suffered most; the 
extreme toil and scant pasturage weakened them so 
that some died from exhaustion and others fell over 
precipices. 

Early in January, near the site of the present Canyon 
City, Pike found a valley where deer were plentiful. 
From here he himself, with a dozen of the hardiest sol- 
diers, struck through the mountains towards the Rio 
Grande. In the Wet Mountain valley, which they 
reached in mid-January, 1807, starvation stared them in 
the face. There had been a heavy snowstorm; no game 
was to be seen; and they had been two days without 
food. Nine of the men, exhausted by hunger, could 
no longer travel on account of frozen feet. Two of the 
soldiers went out to hunt, but got nothing. At the 
same time. Pike and a Dr. Robinson started, deter- 
mined, unless they could bring back meat, to stay out 
and die by themselves, rather than to go back to camp 
"and behold the misery of our poor lads.'* All day 
they tramped wearily through the heavy snow. To- 
wards evening they came on a buffalo, and wounded 



Cfje explorers; of tfje Jf ar OTiesit 289 

it; but, faint and weak from hunger, they shot badly, 
and the buffalo escaped -a disappointment Hterally as 
bitter as death. That night they sat up among some 
rocks unable to sleep because of the intense cold, 
shivering in their thin rags. But they were men of 
indomitable spirit, and next day, trudging painfully on, 
they at last succeeded, after another heartbreaking 
failure, in killing a buffalo. At midnight they stag- 
gered into camp with the meat, and all the party broke 
their four-days' fast. 

After leaving this valley Pike and his men finally 
reached the Rio Grande, where the weather was milder 
and deer abounded. Here they built a little fort over 
which they flew the United States flag, though Pike 
well knew that he was in Spanish territory. When 
the Spanish commander at Santa Fe learned of their 
presence he promptly sent out a detachment of troops 
to bring them in, showing great courtesy, and elabo- 
rately pretending to believe that Pike had merely lost 
his way. 

From Santa Fe Pike was sent home by a round- 
about route through Chihuahua, and through Texas. 
Being used to the simplicity of his own service, he was 
struck by the extravagance and luxury of the Spanish 
officers, who always traveled with sumpter-mules laden 
with delicacies; and he was no less struck with the 
laxity of discipline in all ranks. The Spanish cavalry 
were armed with lances and shields; the militia carried 
not only old-fashioned carbines but lassos and bows and 
arrows. There was small wonder that the Spanish 



290 Miinnins of tjje West 

authorities, civil, military, and ecclesiastical alike, 
should wish to keep intruders out of the land, and 
should jealously guard the secret of their own weakness. 

While these first rough explorations of the Far West 
were taking place, the Old West was steadily filling with 
population and becoming more and more a coherent 
portion of the Union. In the treaties made from time to 
time with the northwestern Indians, they ceded so much 
land that at last the entire northern bank of the Ohio 
was in the hands of the settlers. But the Indians still 
held northwestern Ohio and the northern portions of 
what are now Indiana and Illinois, so that the settle- 
ment at Detroit was quite isolated; as were the few 
little stockades, or groups of fur-traders' huts, in what 
are now northern Illinois and Wisconsin. The south- 
ern Indians also surrendered much territory, in various 
treaties. Georgia got control of much of the Indian 
land within her State limits. All the country between 
Knoxville and Nashville became part of Tennessee, so 
that the eastern and middle portions of the State were 
no longer sundered by a jutting fragment of wilderness, 
infested by Indian war parties whenever there were 
hostilities with the savages. The only Indian lands 
in Tennessee or Kentucky were those held by the 
Chickasaws, between the Tennessee and the Mississippi ; 
and the Chickasaws were friendly to the Americans. 

Year by year the West grew better able to defend 
itself, if attacked, and more formidable in the event of 
its being necessary to undertake offensive warfare. 



^fje Explorers of tfje jFar Witsit 291 

Kentucky and Tennessee had become populous States, 
no longer fearing Indian inroads; but able, on the con- 
trary, to equip powerful armies for the aid of the settlers 
in the more scantily peopled regions north and south 
of them. Ohio was also growing steadily; and in the 
territory of Indiana, including what is now Illinois, 
and the territory of Mississippi, including what is now 
northern Alabama, there were already many settlers. 

During the dozen years which opened with Wayne's 
campaign, saw the treaties of Jay and Pinckney, and 
closed with the explorations of Lewis, Clark, and 
Pike, the West had grown with the growth of a giant, 
and for the first time had achieved peace. The terri- 
tories which had been won by war from the Indians 
and by treaty from Spain, France, and England, and 
which had been partially explored, were not yet entirely 
our own. Much had been accomplished by the deeds 
of the Indian-fighters, treaty-makers, and wilderness- 
wanderers; far more had been accomplished by the 
steady push of the settler folk themselves, as they 
thrust ever westward, and carved states out of the 
forest and prairie; but much yet remained to be done 
before the West would reach its natural limits and 
would fill from frontier to frontier with populous com- 
monwealths of its own citizens. 



\ 




. Putnam's Sons, New York and London. 



Showiitnes ; Boon's trail, on the Wudemess 
Road to Kentkhboro, that taken by the Adventure , 
the march of I 

The ftap ; and the assaults on Boonsboro and 
Vincennes. 




Wat 6^ /rom Wa^hmgtim 



G. r. Putnam's Sons, New York and I.on.Jon. 

THE WEST DURING THE REVOLUTION. 

Showing Hamilton's route from Detroit to Vincennes; Clark's route from Redstone to tne Illinois, and thence toVincennes; Boon's trail, on the Wilderness 
Road to Kentucky ; Robertson's trail to the settlement he founded on the Cumberland ; the water route from the Watauga to Nashboro, that taken by the Adventure , 
the march of the backwoodsmen from the Sycamore Shoals to King's Mountain. 

The flags denote the battles of the Great Kanawha, the Blue Licks, the Island Flats of the Holston, and King's Mountain ; and the assaults on Boonsboro and 
Vincennes. 




SKETCH MAP 

SHOWINC THC STAT£ OF FRANKLIN- 
THE CUMBERLAND SETTL€M£NTS- 
AND THE WESTERN LAND CLAIMS AT 
THE CLOSE or THE RE VOLUTION 

THC STATE OF FRANKLIN SHADED \ 

50 200 






f i-V' S "A' '•'',•'--5 



'MA 



•n'ti'r'' 









llf)i>f^(*;«ff,;'fi(-^^ „ 









THE GRAVE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT AT OYSTER BAY, N. Y. 
DIED JANUARY 6, 1919 



